Traitor to Olympus
by jackson33pjo
Summary: In the Second Titan War, I didn't side with the gods. I went against my father, and turned my back on Olympus.
1. Chapter 1

When I was born, my father abandoned me in disgust.

You think you can relate to me, don't you? You probably have a famous or powerful father who sent you off to boarding school after boarding school because you didn't live up to his expectations. All parents have dreams for their kids, but yours was just too high.

Yeah, right.

My name is Mark Olks. I am fourteen years old. I have sandy brown hair and dirt brown eyes. I have relatively tan skin, and am a little less than six feet tall. My mom used to say that I looked like a child of the earth. When I turned eleven, I found out just how wrong she was.

The day I turned five, my mother held a miniature birthday party for me. She had a few balloons and streamers taped up around the tiny apartment. It was only my mother and me around a chocolate cake with five candles on it. She lit the candles for me and told me to make a wish. But before I could blow out the candles, a cold wind blew them out for me. The door fell down with a BANG! and a man stepped through the open doorway.

He was about six feet tall, and wore a black robe with stars dotted across it. His skin was very light, contrasting with his clothes. Oddly enough, he wore slippers. He looked like some drunk who'd just woken up with a hangover. He had a scowl across his face and his eyes were a cold black.

"I told you to get rid of him!" he said, staring at my mother with a look of betrayal.

"But I-" my mother began.

"Don't interrupt!" he yelled, rage blazing through his cold eyes. "I told you he was unfit to be a child of mine! He is too weak! My children go to Lupa, not kept by weaklings by you!" He moved as if to smack her, but my mother was too quick. Thinking quickly, she said, "So you claim him, then? If he is not to be kept by me he should go to Lupa."

"I did not say I claimed him. I said that you are weak! To think I once thought of you as-" he stopped suddenly, his rage turning cold. "Tell me then. If you think to keep him, what must I do to the both of you?"

My heart went cold. I understood, and apparently so did my mother. "No," she whispered. "No. I bore you a son. You love me. You can't-"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, mortal," he said. His eyes looked close to freezing. "All heroes must be trained even weaklings. The Olympians will never treat him with respect. I am only preparing him," he scoffed mockingly.

"No," she whispered once more. "Please. You love me. This is your son, our child. You wouldn't-"

"I told you not to tell me what to do!" he shouted. My mother started screaming, the room started spinning, and my world turned black.

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**So, what do you think? Should I continue? Who do you think Mark's dad is? Review- if you want. I really don't care. As long as you read it, it's all good.**

**-12/4- UPDATE**

**Also, at first I had Mark at age 2 when this happened. Because of how I portray him next, I realized I couldn't do that. This story may seem rough at first, but it actually has a happy ending (from where I'm thinking now. That could change.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I UPDATED! I don't update much. I have a really busy schedule. I know pretty much all of you think that's a load of junk but it's true. General stuff I normally don't mention- I'm still in school. All honors classes, lots of homework. I swim competitively and I have practice every week night. Swim meets are on Saturdays. Then I have church stuff on Sundays. My free time is normally on Fridays and Saturdays. I've been working on this for a few days and it's twice as long as the 1st chapter. I am also going to start working on this story during free periods (or non free ones) in school. SO I am very sorry and will update as much as possible.**

**Thank you to my reviewers! I was shocked to find that I have people who've alerted to this! That has really brightened my day! Thank you everyone! I will mention names next time if you want! This is my first story so please understand my enthusiasum. I am HARDLY EVER like this, so bear with me. NOW ONTO THE STORY!**

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When I woke up the next day, my mother was gone.

By _gone_, I don't mean disappeared. By _gone_, I mean _dead._ Not alive. Never to be seen again. Completely obliterated off the face of the earth. But I did not know at first. I thought it had been a nightmare, a horrible dream that couldn't possibly be true.

That unforgiving morning, I woke up alone in a large room. The walls were light gray, and there was little furniture in the room. I was in a huge chair behind an enormous desk. There were no windows, but there were a few weird paintings. The paintings were circles and squares that alternated black and white across a line.

I had time to survey the room three times over before a man sauntered into the room.

He was a big guy, with a beer belly and a look in his eyes like he had just woken up with a hangover. He hadn't shaved in a while and had a five o'clock shadow going on. I could tell that he wanted to get this over with as fast as he could. . He wore a suit that matched the color of the walls. The guy had this no-nonsense look in his eyes that would probably have made me stop cold, on a different occasion. After seeing a madman who claimed to be my father silence my mother with a look, this guy didn't scare me.

"'Morning, kid," the fat guy said. "I suppose you know why you're here?" He sat down in a small chair that I hadn't noticed in front of the desk.

I looked at him strangely. "I have no idea. I wake up in a random room with a stranger like you and you expect me to know what's going on. Great idea, buddy. Now where's my mom?" I knew I was getting mouthy. It was the kind of thing my mom's friends would say when they thought I wasn't around. My auntie had told me to say something similar to that if I ever got kidnapped. Her own kids had gotten taken when they were ten, and she never found them. That happened when I was three. When she had told me that, my mother told me to "take out a few naughty words," whatever that meant. So I did.

The man stared at me. I was sure he'd tell me off for telling him that. I knew my mom would have smacked me for saying something like that to an adult. "You mean to say you know nothing?"

I nodded slowly.

"Oh, well this is just great. They told me that they already talked to the kid! This isn't my job! I figure out the aftermath, not break the news!" he yelled, standing up and shaking his fist at the ceiling. His black tie moved out of place and his jacket fell off of one arm.

I looked at him, not understanding.

"Sorry about that," he said, straightening his jacket and tie out. "To business, then. I am Mr. Kimmel. I work for OSG Insurance. My company- well the company I work for, that is to say- insured you and your mom. Well, at least we did. I have no idea the best way to tell you this, but…" He paused, looking weary. "Oh, blast it all. I'll just be blunt, then. Your mother's dead, kid."

An icy wall of eternal blackness seemed to rush past me forever, giving me tunnel vision. "How?" I finally managed.

"Looks like a toxin. One we've never seen before. It rotted her inside-" he stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry. How insensitive of me. Easy to forget you're just a little kid. There's this look in your eyes- like you saw something you shouldn't have…." He trailed off, looking uncertain.

"I saw her….. die," I told Mr. Kimmel. "I saw it."

He looked at me oddly. "We found you at your aunt's house the night of the murder. You may have just been hallucinating."

I didn't know what that word meant, but I was pretty sure he thought I was lying. I let it slide. I wasn't sure what to say to an adult when they accused you of lying, and I wasn't even sure that that had even happened. Maybe I was "hallucinating." Or maybe Mr. Kimmel was. Maybe my mom wasn't really dead….. but if that were true, why was I here? This made no sense anymore.

My voice squeaked as I said, "So what happens now?"

"Well, we have a couple of options. One, you could go to your aunt's. Two, you could go to an orphanage, be adopted by a family somewhere. Three, you could go live at a foster home, live with parents who've signed up to take care of orphans- kids with no parents or guardians." He studied me carefully. "We haven't figured anything out yet, haven't even called your aunt to tell her. What sounds best to you?"

I thought for a moment. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to see my aunt again. I knew it would remind me of my mom, and her of her lost kids. Being with a bunch of other kids like me didn't sound like a good idea. Out of the three, foster parents sounded the best to me. But I did not want to hurt Auntie Tina's feelings by not letting her have a say in where I went.

"If my aunt doesn't want me, I'd like to go to a foster home," I said, not looking him in the eyes.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Kimmel asked, looking genuinely concerned about my welfare.

"Yes," I said, still not looking directly at him.

"Very well then," he said. He seemed to realize that he wasn't going to get a different answer out of me. "I'll go make the necessary calls." And with that he strode out of the room, not looking back once.

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**All names I used in here were random. But I will need some names in the future- other enemy demigods. Thanks for reading! Please review, but it is seriously not necessary. If you are going to review, **

**1. you get Hoosier points! **

**2. please take a little extra time to guess who Mark's dad is. I'd like imput on that- so I know whether to make it more or less clear. I can't go right out and say it. I have a feeling when Mark learns many of you will smack your head with your hand and say "Duh! That makes sense now that I think about it!" I think it's clear, but it may not be.**

**This story is kind of HO also, just to warn you early on. So if you haven't read that... well, we'll get to that. Sure you can guess what that means (if you've read it. If now, I'll try to put in enough info to help you understand.) I'm starting to wonder if I should put this in HO, keep it under PJO, put it as a crossover under both, or maybe just put it under both catagories (can I do that? I'm not sure...)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm glad I could update. Don't judge me/yell at me for not updating in a while. From the beginning, I told you I wouldn't have a strict schedule for this. I do this in my limited off time. (OMG I HAVE 4 REVIEWS! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! That really made my day. Reviewing isn't necessary, of course. But reviewers get Hoosier points.) This is mainly a filler chap. Time lapse is here because I am not telling five years worth of nothing (a few exceptions, of course. He _is_ a half-blood after all.) Things start happening here… sort of, anyway…**

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5 years later…..

"MARCUS XAVIER OLKS!" my aunt screamed. I figured she had gotten my report card in the mail. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

I really hoped that was a rhetorical question. "Coming!" I yelled, running down the stairs of her two-floor home. "What is it?" I asked innocently, skittering to a stop in front of her. Aunt Tina was in the living room with the mail. She wore a suit and had her blond hair in a tight bun. She looked almost exactly like my mom, except for the eyes. Her eyes were a hard and frozen brown. My mom had excited blue eyes that made everything look new, no matter how many times she had seen something before. Aunt Tina had just gotten back from work. She worked as a lawyer, and never had a boring day at work. She held what looked like a printed-out email in her right hand.

"What happened at school on Monday?" she asked, calming down.

"The usual," I said, my stomach sinking. This was not something I wanted to talk about. I knew what she meant, and I had no idea what had happened.

"Really? Your principal sent me an email. Apparently, you had a test on Monday. But, your teacher never showed up. She did not call in sick, so you've had no teacher for the past few days, is that correct?" I nodded, feeling sick myself. What _had_ happened that day? I remembered being scared that I'd fail the test on Monday morning. Then Mrs. Milroy never came to school.

My aunt's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Another teacher saw the room unchaperoned, and got the principle involved. There was an investigation this afternoon. Your teacher was driving to school and somehow got into a car crash. She is currently in intensive care." Her voice got soft. Processing that, I felt numb. Had _I_ somehow done that? No, I couldn't have. I would know… wouldn't I?

Aunt Tina's voice broke into my thoughts again. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" she demanded. "We could have found this out earlier!"

"I don't know…." I broke off. My voice sounded rusty. I licked my lips and swallowed. "I didn't want to take the test."

Auntie had nothing to say to that. She sighed wearily. "Go do your homework." She sat down in her armchair and began looking through the mail. I knew I was dismissed and walked through the kitchen. I got to the stairs and trudged up them. I walked into my room and sat down hard on my bed, lost in thought. I thought about my teacher. Something had happened to her to make her lose control of the car. What? It was winter out, it could've been ice. But I hadn't seen any ice or snow out on the roads. Flash freeze? Maybe, it was cold out. She could have been up late and fallen asleep. Or maybe she was on some kind of medication that messes with her driving abilities. Maybe it was the other person's fault, which means any of my earlier guesses could be right. Who knows what could have been wrong with them? How could any of that be my fault? I had no answer to that. But that wasn't my biggest question.

Why did I have the feeling that it _was_ my fault?

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**I'm going to make this more of a Lost Hero x Percy Jackson story. Something one of the minor characters in The Lost Hero said created this story. So if you haven't read the Lost Hero, I suggest either reading it or dropping this book. I'll try my best to make sure everyone can understand even if they haven't read it, but I'm not sure if that'll work out.**

**How do you like his full name? I wanted something you could shorten, and I didn't feel like changing his name. Hence, Marcus. Xavier is a kick-butt character reference to one of my unpublished stories. He's the main character in that one, so I had to include him in some way. So far, those two are a lot alike. I know you don't get it, seeing as it's ****unpublished****, but I had to put that in there somehow. So just let me enjoy my moment.**

**Questions?**

**Did any of you predict something like this would happen?**

**Doesn't this feel like a short chapter? 'Cause it is.**

**Would figurative language in any way help this story (if nothing else, for length)?**

**What do you think happened to Mrs. Milroy? **

**One last question- why does it feel like there is more AN than story? I put in as much detail as I could and added more hypothesizes… **

**Up next- we find out what happened.**


	4. Chapter 4

**SPOILER ALERT! If you haven't read Lost Hero, don't read this. This gives away a main idea of the Heroes Olympus series. I'll explain (later) as best as I can, but do yourself a favor and just read the book. It helps both of us- you get what I'm talking about, and I get your feedback when I'm inaccurate in some way. It's a win-win situation! Lot less AN in this chap. Mostly story. Five pages altogether! 2,379 words! (before any editing on the site). This is a huge accomplishment for me. Last chapter was like two pages and I feel like half of it was AN. Not this time! I think I'm being too nice to you. Two chapters in one month? This won't happen often. Make the most of it (while you can!)**

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I couldn't get to sleep that night.

What had happened to my teacher kept bugging me. I couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't get the idea out of my head that it was my fault. Completely crazy, but some part of me was just absolutely _sure_. That part of me made doubt impossible and kept the logical part of my brain quiet. It was like when the class idiot won't let the smartest kid in class put his two cents in. Even when the logical part of me spoke up, that crazy part of me just did not want to hear it.

It was the part of me that had formed when that weird psychopath killed my mother.

Today, I'm not sure if it formed that day or if it had always been there. I'm not sure which one would be weirder.

The next morning I got up and asked my aunt if she could take me to the hospital to visit my teacher. That crazy little piece of me was talking to me. It whispered _You'll find your answers there._ It's really hard to describe. It's like a gut feeling that has too much influence over the rest of you. It gets the rest of your gut to agree with it, and you can't ignore it. The only problem with its message was that I only had one question. I wanted reassurance that it wasn't me. I wanted to prove my gut wrong, as crazy as it sounds.

I wanted to know what had really happened.

When I asked Auntie this, she just looked at me and sighed. "Yes, if you get ready in five minutes." She then picked up the phone and called school. "My nephew Mark Olks isn't going to be in today…"

I climbed the stairs like a mountain goat and ran into my room. Three minutes later I was fully dressed and wolfing down a bagel. One thing I had learned about my aunt over the years is that she doesn't mess around with deadlines. When she says five minutes she _means_ five minutes. If you're late she will leave without you. Some people think this is harsh, but it prepared me well for life in both camp and the army…

It was a little early to be visiting anyone in the hospital, but the staff knew Aunt Tina too well. She took the cases of a lot of people who ended up here. They probably assumed I was here to take notes or something like that. No way. I am not going to be a lawyer. Never. I've seen the paperwork Aunt's had to do and I will never have that much free time.

Mrs. Milroy was in room 164. She had a broken arm, a broken leg, two cracked ribs, a fractured pelvis, and a small piece of shrapnel in her skull. She also had some first-degree burns where her seatbelt had been. Nasty impact, I guess. The other guy got off better, the doctor told my aunt. Lots of blood, but no internal problems. Maybe she was taking Mrs. Milroy's case. I wouldn't be surprised. I think she said something about that the other night- not that my sleep-deprived brain would be able to remember.

My teacher was lying down on a hospital bed, wrapped up in a lot of white gauze. Plaster covered her right leg and arm. There was a long white strip of cloth wrapped around her head. Her curly, deep brown hair was down, carelessly strewn about. Her right leg was elevated off the bed. Her right arm was positioned in a way that I didn't think could be comfortable. Then again, she probably couldn't feel it. Nevertheless, she smiled when she saw me, then winced. "Mark?" she croaked. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi," I said, slowly entering the room. "How are you feeling?" I knew she didn't have any family, and I wanted to be there for her. She hadn't mentioned any in class, and I figured if she had any, they would be there. I hoped anyway. I had learned a long time ago that family doesn't always care. That psycho who called himself my father had taught me that. I unconsciously walked toward her, dragging my feet. Mind over body/matter is one thing, but gut over mind? That's weird.

"I've felt better," she said. Her voice was really soft. I could hear it, but I had a feeling the adults couldn't. Then I noticed that the doctor and my aunt hadn't even entered the room. They were discussing something in low voices- insurance, probably. I couldn't tell. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. It kinda makes me sick; the way adults talk about each other-even in front of one another. They were looking at this from a purely business point of view, I was sure of it.

"How are you feeling?" my aunt asked in her soft, caring voice as she walked into the room. I was the only one in the room-maybe in the world- who could resist her "business voice." She used it on all her clients, in order to make them feel special. I knew her other side, the screaming woman the lawyer had created. Stressful job? Maybe. Or maybe she just likes to scream. I then realized I would never truly understand her. Maybe it was because she lost her twins Heather and Jack when they were my age, almost seven years ago. I would never know. She wasn't the type of person to share feelings (with anyone). She never got married. Her job was her life, but I wondered if her kids had once replaced it. I wondered if she had forcefully attached herself to her job because she had nowhere else to turn; no other outlet to escape the pain.

I jolted myself out of my thoughts. Funny, it had seemed like five years since Aunt Tina had asked her stupid question. Of course Mrs. Milroy wasn't feeling okay; who would, given the situation? I wanted to shout at Auntie. _I just asked her that!_ I thought angrily. Plus, I knew that we both knew it was a stupid question, even though she hadn't even heard me ask it in the first place. I was learning quickly that small talk in intensive care was either A) a bad idea B) really awkward C) a dumb way to make time pass. I learn irrelevant things quickly, it takes time for important things to sink in. But that's just me.

The doctor walked briskly past my aunt and me. He checked the little heart monitor on my teacher's bedside table. "Everything seems to be normal internally," he said with relief. "You've been awake for three hours straight now. Could you please tell us what you can? Miss Olks has been hired as your lawyer, and needs to know everything to defend your case."

"Case?" my teacher frowned. "But… what? Why?"

"Mr. Kalin, the man in the other car, is suing. Claims it was your fault, that you ran into him," Aunt Tina said this with no emotion at all, all business. No business voice. Just her office voice. Emotionless, indifferent. Uncaring. She tried to use it when someone talked to her about Mother, Heather, or Jack. But I could see through the cracks in it. I doubted anyone else could, or even cared enough to try. She always pushed people away who tried to help her personal life. "I need to know what happened. In order to win this case, I need a solid defense. The basis of that would be your testimony. You're too weak to appear in court as of yet, and the trial is one week from now."

"One week!" Mrs. Milroy processed slowly. "Why is Mark here?"

Auntie looked at me expectantly. I knew she could tell I didn't want to say anything. I also knew she didn't care. It's not like she didn't care about my happiness. She was trying to prepare me for adulthood, in the only way she knew how. She wanted to train me to be indifferent. To stop caring when it will only cause you pain. It's a good lesson, but people rarely learn it. Because once you learn it, you become just another nameless soldier willing to die for any cause important enough for your superiors to put you in that situation. One of the many, one of the few.

One of the Legion.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," I said, looking her full in the face. I let my emotions show on my face- just the sort of thing Auntie had been teaching me _not_ to do. Aunt Tina leads by example. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that's _**my**_ leading style as well. Weird. Fear and compassion dominated my features, with a little anger somehow working its way in there. I always had some anger on my face though, so this was unsurprising, to me at least.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "It's kind of hard to remember. Some parts I just don't want to remember…." Mrs. Milroy trailed off uncertainly. Auntie and the doctor nodded encouragingly. I let curiosity find its way across my face.

Encouraged, my teacher began her tale. "It was about six thirty in the morning. I had to get there early to get my math tests ready. Suddenly I smelled alcohol. I had been at a party the night before and had taken a few drinks…. but I suddenly had a hangover. I passed out with the headache. I remember squealing tires and an impossible impact. Then… pain. Blackness, too. But mostly pain."

"So you were drinking," my aunt frowned. The doctor looked confused.

"There was no alcohol in your system on the record…" The doctor ran out of the room to go check his records.

"The weird thing is, I didn't have that much. At the very most I had about cup. Nothing that would have impacted my driving, especially the morning after….."

Mrs. Milroy and Aunt Tina were obviously off in their own worlds, wondering what could have caused this. Meanwhile, I was off in mine, only half paying attention to what was going on around me.

_I had nothing to do with that, okay! It's impossible. Like I could have something to do with alcohol…._

Maybe it's not alcohol. 

_What are you saying?_

I'm a part of you, aren't I? I think you know what I'm saying. 

_That what? It was me? I controlled her because she was drinking?_

Do you have any better ideas?

_Yes, actually._

Like what?

_Well….._

That's what I thought.

_You thought nothing! I'm the one with the brain here!_

You know it was at least partially your fault. You are in denial.

"Am not!" I realized I had spoken aloud, and had startled the two women out of their reveries. They looked at me like I was crazy.

Stupid voice.

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**I don't know what it's really called, so I'm sticking with an idea that lots of other writers on FF have used when referencing it. Probably find out the real name of it in Son of Neptune. Yeah, Mark keeps going off inside his head. I'm trying to help you people understand him. Might not be doing the best job, but I'm making a conscious effort here. This is my longest chapter ever. I've included lots of details- without overloading it. My opinion, of course! Don't judge me. **

**Maybe that important revelation about his aunt is misplaced. Foreshadowing with that, you can guess what will happen next. Hangover? Where did that come from? Am I (obviously) hinting at who his father is? How does the Lost Hero fit into all of this? Such important questions! Some have already been answered, however subtly. Some will be answered next chapter. Some, of course, will not. This ain't no one shot, kids. It's not all going to happen at once. Wouldn't be much of a story if it did. No offense to one-shots at all. Some of them are very good. I'm planning to write one soon anyway. It will be a large change. One chapter story instead of a _ chapter one? I'm looking forward to it. (I write this thing one chapter at a time, so I have no idea how long it will end up. Right now, my best guess is around twenty. But again, I have honestly no clue.) I use my "Upcoming" bits to remind myself what I'm doing- if I leave something out that I promised to include just tell me. I forget a lot of things. We'll definitely see- unless, you know, I stop writing it for some odd reason. Not planning on that any time soon, though.) Also, any grammar mistakes- tell me, but I will keep some. At this point, this is a ten-year-old's story (currently) told from him who-knows-how-many years later, with, of course, a few reflections from his older/future self. He's not getting much schooling in either, from where I'm planning now. But one chapter at a time guys, one chapter at a time. Though, I do plan to have a special update for Christmas…. and I just ruined your Christmas present. Wonderful. It may not be a surprise any more, but it should be a good next chapter. I'll do my best.**

_Mark (inside head, thinking to himself)_

Controlling, crazy, irrational gut feeling **(what should I name it? It needs a name! Review and send in name! Thank you!)**


	5. Disclaimer

**Wow. Holy crap. I cannot BELIEVE I did this. I really forgot…. –sigh– Actually, I can. This is ME, we're talking about after all. Okay I'm just going to get this over with now and not do it ever again:**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**I DO NOT OWN THE PERCY JACKSON SERIES OR THE HEROES OF OLYMPUS SERIES.**

**I only own Mark and the other characters I create. May be some minor characters we've heard of so far later on. Dunno yet.**

**I'm shocked no one called me on this. Either no one noticed or some of you actually thought I was Rick Riordan. Oh, I wish- sort of. I could never have come up with his ideas. I have come up with my own, though. Not as big a twist as the Lost Hero, but I think it's pretty big. No one's ever come up with it before. And writing the Son of Neptune? ME? Forget about it. Not gonna happen. First off, I wouldn't. Second off, even if I did, it would suck.**

**This is a taste of my writing style which I am trying as best I can to keep out of the book (so far. I can put it in later.)**


	6. Chapter 5

**Thank you, everyone! Seven reviews? I got like three people reviewing at once! That made my day! (If you have a problem with me taking time to respond to my reviewers, tell me.)**

**Crazedbookfan14, thank you! I think this is an original idea. Planning later twists of course, but even right now from the title and summary, no one else has done this idea before. They focus on Luke and why he turned to the Titans. An OC? I haven't seen a story even with my basic idea so far- and I've been looking! I can't think of what to write for a Son of Neptune story. I want to do something like what you did- whole new plotline twist that no one is expecting. If you present it in a whole new light, I don't think anyone can _not_ want to read it. Trouble is, I have no ideas on that. I want to stay focused on this story so I can get it done. If I get off track, I'll forget where I'm going with it. There is no vacation in writing, I'm quickly learning. As a new author, this is a different experience for me. Publishing my writing? It feels weird. But I like it. Weird feelings all around!**

**Wingless angel****~ I think this is what happens; One person gets a good, original idea. Maybe they don't write their story the best. Or maybe they write really well and another FF author thinks "I want to do that, too!" Son of Neptune is a great example. No one knows who orgininally started it (it could have been Rick Riordan and the way he left off in Lost Hero) but now everyone does it. It's a great break when you get a new idea out there- or a brand-new twist to an old idea. **

**Anonymous****- Good guess! I'm glad someone did guess. I won't tell you even if you are right. You'll all find out soon enough….. But, you might have gotten it right! I'm not telling… yet…**

**Sailor Girl3**** – Thank you for encouraging me! That helped me! At first I didn't really want to write this. This is something I do in my free time, after all. I had no ideas for the second chapter. I also knew I couldn't leave it there. What kind of a writer does that? Has some great cliffy and then never updates? You got me off the fence. Thank you so much!**

**Wow, about 400 words in just my beginning AN? I'm taking away too much from the story! This is mostly just a filler chapter. Wrapping up loose ends from Chapter Four and getting ready for the action, which should hopefully begin next chapter. I think I've put in a bit too much filler. Time to go crazy on the action. Even things out a bit. So starts Chapter Five****…..**

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We stayed for another two hours at the hospital. I don't remember much. Well, I wish I didn't. It held no information for my little voice. Those two hours were so boring for me. At first, all I did was argue with the annoying voice in my head **(it still needs a name.)** Auntie Tina was working on presenting Mrs. Milroy's case. She typed on her laptop as Mrs. Milroy told her all the tiny details and went over her story again. The doctor was frantically going over the record, murmuring "This makes no sense." Over and over. Then he gave my teacher a long sideways glance. "Hallucination?" he questioned to himself as softly as possible. "Maybe… it's a possibility…" he answered himself.

Mrs. Milroy heard him. "I'm not crazy!" she screamed. There was a wild, uncontrollable fire in her soft green eyes. Not the cold blaze that had dampened the psycho's; a bonfire-wild blaze. A fire you had to understand and respect-or risk getting burned down. "I'm telling you how I felt! I felt drunk and passed out! Then I woke up in here with you!" I could tell she was holding back on calling him some really nasty names- probably because I was there. You don't swear in front of a ten-year old unless you've really got some problems. That, or all the adults I grew up with showed me wrong.

I think it's the first one, though.

"It's still a possibility," the doctor stated, obviously ignoring her. "If you do not want to get sued, you might want to claim hallucination. If murderers can get away with their … profession….. by pleading insanity, then you should be able to get off using the same tactic." His eyes were cold, like he lied a lot. I didn't want him to ever be near me if I lay in the hospital, I could tell this already.

My teacher looked mad enough to stand up and smack him. "I'm not crazy, okay!" Then her shoulders slumped. She looked defeated. "But I'm not sure how I'll be able to afford a lawyer….." she glanced at my aunt nervously"….much less getting sued. Fine. If that's what it takes to get me out of this mess. Whatever." I knew she was the kind of woman who didn't like having her morals questioned. Then again, who did? But changing her mind completely? For money? I didn't think many people were capable of it, especially not Mrs. Milroy.

"But that still doesn't mean I'm crazy!" the fire came back to her eyes in full force, maybe even stronger.

The doctor backed away. "I did not mean it that way. 'Hallucination is not the same thing as insanity."

"Then why did you use the term 'insanity' in your analogy?"

"It was only an analogy…" the doctor trailed off, backing into the wall.

My aunt stepped forward. "He didn't mean anything. He was only trying to show you the best way out of this in court." The business voice was back. Sickly sweetness seemed to calm down my teacher, if only a little.

"You're the lawyer. Why didn't you come up with it?"

"He is the medical professional here. He knows far more about medicine than I do. He should, seeing as it's his job. Bad things would happen- to you and everyone else he has treated/will treat if he didn't know what he was doing." Her voice was clipped, like she didn't appreciate my teacher's response. Auntie paused, thinking. "By no means does that in any way mean that I know nothing about medicine, though. I have had several cases like yours- of course, none with my prior personal involvement." She looked at me with a little disapproval and fatigue, like I had caused her problems.

Good. I didn't hate my aunt, but she was never home. When she was home, she didn't really care. I don't know what it was about me, or even if it was because of me, but we just hardly ever talked. When we did, it was probably because I did something wrong. Grades, schoolwork, moral problems- stuff like that. I didn't grow up like I was perfect and infallible, like a lot of kids do. I grew up like I was human- always making mistakes and making the wrong choices. Lazy. Stupid. Weak. At least she prepared me for my later life- I would always owe her that.

Mrs. Milroy had no response for that. She slumped down on her bed a little more and asked if Auntie had any more questions.

An hour later, we were ready to leave. Mrs. Milroy was fine. She was healing okay. Nothing would have to be rebroken later. Aunt Tina had asked all her necessary questions- and the usual unnecessary ones too. She had this down to a science: Connect with client. Suggest best course of action. Remind them what happens if they lose case. Win case. Get paid. She had written everything down on her laptop, backed up to the home computer in case something were to happen.

We told the doctor and my teacher goodbye, and walked out of the hospital. Auntie dropped me off at home. She had to get back to work and get her case all set up. I didn't know why she had to be in an office to do this, but she said that "it helped her think." Subtle, much? I didn't think so. I went into my room and started thinking;

_See, it wasn't even me. _

Why are you trying to convince yourself of this? You know you did it and are trying to tell yourself otherwise. 

_This is really sad. Not only am I arguing with myself, but I'm losing. _

You won't lose if you don't argue.

_This would be the bad part of fighting with a part of me. I can't strangle you or inflict any physical damage upon you._

You could, but it would only hurt you. I would be unaffected and would be laughing at you. 

_Laugh it up. You can't even do anything. I'm in charge here and I call all the shots._

Of course you do. If the voice had eyes and could roll them, I'm sure it would have. That's why your high Highness is resorting to arguing with low gutterscum like me.

_Why you…._

After a crazy hour at home arguing with my voice, Auntie returned home. "I need to go back to the office to work on this case. You can go pick up the groceries." She handed me a list and a wad of cash. "Don't pick up anything unnecessary, okay? Call me when you're done." She handed me my cell phone. Aunt Tina had given it to me for my tenth birthday so that she could go off and do whatever without having to worry about me. It was more a gift for her than it was for me. But she paid for my plan and I could do pretty much anything I wanted on that thing. Auntie didn't care; whatever got me out of her hair, she was all too eager about. Lots of love was spread throughout our time together, as I'm sure you all can tell….

Not picking up anything "unnecessary?" Easier said than done. Far easier. She wasn't a ten year old kid who propaganda was targeting. "I'll do my best." She dropped me off about a block away from home, next to one of those old mom-and-pop stores. "Call me!" she shouted out her window as she drove away. Little did we both know I would not be able to call her…

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**I need help in naming the voice. I don't want to go all Maximum Ride and name it "The Voice." I'm trying to be original. Otherwise, I would have gone with Bob. But after reading the Outsiders (really good, if you haven't read it. I highly recommend it. It is a little violent though…) I did not want that name. It's really hard to find a name that hasn't been used in a series before. If in two updates you don't come up with something- I'll try to name it. Fingers crossed that you will, though. If there are multiple entries on this, I'll announce it on story and ask for people's input. Hey! Four pages of filler! Not bad. We'll see what happens next chap…. Trying to increase length but I can't only use filler. I'm not doing "detail detail detail detail detail MAJOR STORY ALL COMES AND ENDS AT ONCE detail." That would not make for a good story. Also, thank you for your input on Mark's dad! Keep it up!**

**OH! And I'm updating today because today is the Winter Solstice. The gods are having their conference! YAY! Even Hades is showing up! Hahaha. I was planning on updating with two chapters as a Christmas present…. but I don't think I can anymore. Two chapters? In like two to three days? UH, not going to happen! I'm not even sure if I can get one chapter out…. As always, though, I'll try my best. If not, Merry Christmas!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Alright, my readers, who have strangely not tried to kill me yet. *quickly dons fireproof suit as angry readers pull out containers of greek fire and throw them.* There it is….. Hold your fire! *puts up hands in surrender* Hear me out, then you can decide what to do! *readers groan and drop the lethal projectiles, instantly setting themselves on fire.* Oh gods… *pulls out fire extinguisher* ! Hahaha…. Uh, sorry about that. *readers glare, foam dripping off their bodies as they grip hidden weapons* And yes, I do keep a fire extinguisher on me at all times… just in case of emergencies. And, because this happens a lot. Obviously.**

**So, why you're here… I'm not into this story anymore. Just not. Dunno why. *readers lift imperial gold daggers from sheathes* And, before you try to maim me for going back on a promise, just keep listening. My lack of interest in this story may feed into my writing. Yes, I am continuing, so put the sword AWAY, Mark. Your story isn't over until I say it is. Abandoning it here…. Would be like damning you to Tartarus. Because I created you, I'm not going to do that. *meets readers eyes hesitantly* And as for you… please read what I write. If you've got a problem with it, you can redo it yourself. I have no idea how many chapters it will end up being, but, there's a hell of a lot left for me to write. May be torturous for me- or maybe I'll get back into it! Wouldn't that be nice?**

**I have other stories planned for you people to read, too. There's the ones I have already… and ones I have yet to write/upload. I has ideas, though. You people have any ideas, send them to me and I'll see what I can do- while of course giving you credit. I'm evil, of course- giving you (somewhat of) a cliffy for anticipation purposes for, what was it, like a year?- but not THAT evil. Although, that might change later on in this story…. Not the whole "stealing without giving credit" thing. The "I'm going to start killing off characters" thing. Hoover dam it! YOU HEARD NOTHING. Although, this is set during the better part of a WAR, so…. Eh, it's to be expected. I would give you what I'm planning on doing, but someone would steal it. I work on a basis of originality… and long ANs. : )**

**This is canon. Set during… well, I'm not sure which book right now. OOH! JUST GOT ANOTHER IDEA! Maybe I am getting back into this story after all!**

**Sorry to everyone that wanted to name the Voice, because there was an incredibly long list to choose from, but it's Bob now. May change later if anyone really wants it to be changed. I had two choices: Bob, or Billy, which just sounds retarded. No offense to anyone named Billy. I might use Billy later though.**

**Anything (and everything) that I've screwed up on, let me know so I can fix it. I imagine that would be a very long list….**

**So, finally, here is chapter 7! It's been a long time… I had to look up what chapter I was on minus ANs. So very sad…. Enjoy!**

Lucinda's.

I remember the neon sign clearly. Its dimming florescent green cursive has burned itself into my memory, permanently engraved into my subconscious. There would be times when I would catch myself off guard, wondering what would have happened had I not gone into that building.

It was an old building, sloppily painted a peeling forest-green. There were no signs advertising anything currently going on in the community, just a fading ad for an antique vacuum cleaner and a slightly torn lost dog poster. The poster had a picture of a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. The description was typed- If found, please call- and then someone had handwritten a phone number. They had probably written it in pencil, as there was a dark grey smudge where the number should have been. The poster had a giant X through it in black permanent marker, with the word FOUND hastily scrawled down the margin.

I remember thinking it was weird, that a mom-and-pop store had survived this long. No one was going in or out, but the giant blue sign on the door declared to the world that was open. There was a bright, shiny, chromium Wal-Mart two stores down, and people would walk by Lucinda's like it didn't even exist. They had to have cheaper prices, I thought, and walked in, Bob silently screaming, making his voice heard in the hairs rising on the back of my neck.

Bob. I had named him during that long argument we had, when he insisted on insulting my intelligence. I figured there wasn't a stupider name out there than Bob, so I named him that to annoy the heck out of him. He had tried to give me a different name, but shut up after the first letter. I can't even remember what it started with, because he said it in a different language. Some ancient-sounding language that probably only scientists and dead people use. Which is weird, because the only language I was fluent in at that point was English.

I didn't have time to concentrate on the weirdness that was Bob- or me, depending how you look at it. Auntie would be back soon. Yeah, she left me a lot, but today's meeting promised to be short. There really wasn't much of a case to begin with, and I could tell she just wanted more free time- because three hours alone clearly isn't enough. If I didn't have the shopping done…. Gods, she'd be mad. Wait a minute. Gods?

Before I could think about where I possibly could have gotten that polytheistic thought from, a fat lady came out of the back room. Something about her eyes made me take a step backwards and survey the room, noting exits. There were two windows behind me, seven small aisles to run through, the door behind me, and… I shook myself out of an instinct that I could not place. I took a step forward, trying to quell the fears fluttering inside my stomach like butterflies.

"Hello, ma'am," I started, the words coming out respectfully. "I'm looking for…." I pulled out my list and looked at her face. She was smiling evilly. Her skin looked almost green in the dimly lit store. She looked vaguely like an obese sea monster in modern-day clothing. Her skirt made her look like a half-filled Zeppelin. Her eyes stared at me hungrily.

"We know exactly what you need, Marcus," she said almost theatrically in a dry voice, licking her lips with a forked tongue. "Sonny? Come out here and greet our guest."

At that point, I was guessing I was on some reality-TV show for Halloween or something. I mean, how the bleep did she know who I was? I edged toward the door, noticing through the corner of my eye that it was locked. The sign was switched around and probably read something like "Sorry, I can't eat you now. Come back later."

She was turned expectantly toward the door to the back room, which looked like a storage area. I wondered why anyone would be hiding back there, especially a camera man. The door slowly creaked open, and a Chihuahua nosed its way out of the darkness. It was the dog from the poster on the door. He eyes bored into mine, and there was hate filling them He growled as he walked toward me, growing as he approached.

The woman cackled. "Don't worry, demigod. This is just a test. Your father _asked_ me to help with your training. I'm actually doing you a favor. Unless, of course, you lose this fight."

I found my voice as a swell of anger engulfed me. "My father? Yeah, right. I don't even _know_ him. Why would someone I've never even met go around asking strangers to attack me?"

"You're a Roman," she retorted. "It's in your blood to fight. As for why he ordered us to attack… you'll have to ask him. Assuming he wants to meet you, and assuming you live. After all," she smirked, looking at my expression of disgust "the Roman gods have better things to do than babysit their half-mortal children." The dog was five feet away from me now, and was as tall as the ceiling. He was transforming into a lion-like creature as I looked on in horror. "Good luck, Roman. We have not been bested in centuries." I could now clearly see the scales where skin should be, and the bright green color looked like poison.

"What are you?" I asked, fear making my voice shake. The woman shrugged, disappointment evident on her face. "They don't make heroes, like they used to, eh sonny? This one's so scared, he can't even talk straight! As for what we are, I am the mother of monsters, the terrible Echidna! And this," she shouted, "is my son, the dreaded Chimera!"

The beast roared in apparent appreciation of his name. Then he opened his mouth and breathed fire at me. I barely dodged it, my sleeves smoking. I hid behind a shelf full of jelly as Echidna laughed. The beast knocked over the shelf with its snake tail, jelly raining down at me. Glass covered the floor around me. I barely caught a glass jar of the stuff that probably would have cracked my head open. The snake's head snapped at me. I knocked it out with the jar, sending shards of glass into the beast- and into my hand.

The Chimera roared in pain. Its lion eyes displayed even more hate- as though I had just made things personal. Wonderful. Now I had an enemy that was after me.

It sent another wave of fire at me, aiming for my legs. I jumped over the flames, only just clearing them. I landed on my feet, the rubber on my shoes melting and sticking me to the floor. I couldn't move. The monster roared, knowing it had me beaten. Its immortal mother sighed in disappointment. "That was a good try, demigod. But I'm afraid failures cannot be tolerated in Rome."

The Chimera opened its maw, preparing to eat me. Its breath was rancid- smelling of long-dead bodies and old gore. There was blood stained on its teeth, and its evil eyes glittered with victory, hunger, and intelligence.

I closed my eyes in defeat, wondering what I truly was. Just when I was sure the monster was going to eat me, I heard a trumpet sound. The deafening noise of an explosion shook the building. Echidna screamed, and I opened my eyes to see the Chimera being stabbed by a boy in armor. He took his golden lance and stabbed the creatures eye out. I tried to unlace my shoes as a girl and another boy took out Echidna, knocking her into the counter and pinning her down. The boy struck the final blow, and the mother of monsters disintegrated into dust. The boy with the lance flipped his weapon in the air while the Chimera spun around and used a gold sword that had come out of nowhere to cut the monster in half. It roared in almost anguish as it shared the fate of its mother.

I stood up, having pulled the remains of my shoes off my feet. The armored kids stared at me for a second. The boy with the sword flipped the weapon, it shrinking into nothing as he slipped something into his pocket. The other boy took a step forward.

"Greetings. I am Dakota, son of Bacchus and centurion of the Fifth Cohort. These are Gwen, legacy of Minerva** (No, this isn't the official godly parent/legacy)**, and Jason, son of Jupiter. And you are?" His blue eyes were somewhat cold and drunken. There was a red ring around his mouth. Black curly hair showed under his helmet. He looked competent enough, besides the fact that I had no idea what he was even talking about.

"I'm Mark," I replied warily, unsure what was going to happen next. "Son of my father and my mother."

Jason snorted. "You don't know your godly parent?" he asked, surprised. "I mean, you took care of Echidna and the Chimera well for a loner. You don't know anything about the gods?"

Dakota shot him a look that clearly said _Shut up. This is my job._ Jason glared back for a moment, but then took a step backward, clearly giving the centurion the floor. Dakota wrung his hands nervously and said, "You need to come with us to camp."

I looked at him dubiously. "Camp? What's going on here? What was that thing? Demigods?"

Gwen looked sympathetic as she answered my questions. "Camp Jupiter. It's a place where kids like us train to be heroes. Those were monsters, like from Roman mythology. You are probably a demigod if a monster that powerful was trying to kill you. The more powerful monsters don't normally bother legacies like me. Demigods are the children of a mortal and a god. Half-human, half-god. Legacies are descendants of gods/demigods. The gods are the gods of Roman mythology. The monsters are also of Roman mythology. Monsters attack and try to kill us because we are descended from gods. They don't like heroes. When we kill them," she said, gesturing to the golden dust on the dingy floor, "they don't actually die. Their essence goes to Tartarus for a while, until they reform. Once they reform, they can attack again. Monsters like Echidna and the Chimera have only been killed a few times. I've never seen someone who knew nothing about our way of life do as well as you have against a monster like this. Even one well-trained Legionnaire could not take both of them out." She looked at me curiously for a second, trying to see what I was hiding. Not seeing anything, she continued. "I'd suggest you train hard and study Roman mythology if you want to survive. The weak don't live. Our motto is _aut vincere aut mori._ Conquer or die."

This was a lot to wrap my mind around, but I tried my best. Bob was helping, bringing up the examples from my past that proved I wasn't normal. Things I tried to forget, but that he hung on to. Now, I could sort of see why he had. It was experience, training like Echidna had mentioned. Every moment of training, both mental and physical, helped you in the long run. But what was the long run?

I knew more questions I asked would make them ask more questions about me. I didn't figure demigods, or legacies, just showed up on a regular basis. Especially being attacked by two monsters.

"Alright," I said, looking Dakota in the eyes. "Let's go to this camp of yours."

**WOW. I just realized the whole Lucinda's thing… rhymes with Echidna's. Hahaha! I just used it as an old-person-type name. That's just awesome. I didn't **_**intend**_** for him to fight the Chimera at first, but I found out it's actually a Roman monster, too. At least, I think that's what Wikipedia said, and the Camp Half-Blood Wiki… I'm going with it. Percy didn't actually send it back to Tartarus, so it's still out there… and this story can still be canon! Not bad for my first fight scene…. Though I really should have written this earlier, seeing as he's not at Camp yet… Oh well, I now know what Romans are like, so I won't have to redo that! Yay, I think I got my inspiration and appreciation for this story back! Expect more to come!**

**I was going to just leave it at "Hi, I'm Jason," but figured 1. I have no idea when I'm updating next and 2. I've tormented you guys enough. Waiting for a year for this… Well, my writing has somewhat improved from then, but still. That's just horrible of me. I will try not to do that again.**

**And no, Mark is not an amnesiac. Not using that plot line. He's not going to be a part of the Heroes of Olympus series- at this point. Might change later. Nothing is set in stone, sadly, not even what I've already written…**

**Thanks for reading! Review!**


	8. Chapter 7

Getting to the Roman camp- Jason had told me it was called Camp Jupiter- didn't actually take that long. Only an hour, which is pretty good for hijacking a car down to a mythological camp. Just your average demigod road trip. Jason had called shotgun, which no one protested- probably because of the whole I-am-Jupiter's-son-don't-make-me-blow-you-up thing. I know he's not like that now, but still. Gwen sat on my left in the backseat. It was pretty awkward at first, seeing as they all knew each other really well, and they knew nothing about me. It helped nothing that I knew nothing about them- although knowing anything about them at that point would have been creepy and a little stalkerish. But the atmosphere grew more relaxed and comfortable as we talked and told each other some basic things about ourselves.

Gwen explained a lot during the trip. She had told me they had been looking for their eagle, which is apparently their symbol, when a faun had reported some monster activity down in San Mateo. They had gone looking for the monster, got lost, and found Lucinda's. The Chimera in the window, she said, was a dead giveaway. Then she explained the Mist, which covers up mythological activity so mortals can't see it. It also can cover a demigod/legacy's eyes. It makes them see the monster or Imperial gold gladius or god as something their little mortal brains can understand. Dakota said the mortal brains part, and Gwen probably would have smacked him if he weren't centurion- and behind the wheel.

I was afraid we were going to get in a wreck or get pulled over because he looked and acted drunk- though Gwen had assured me it was just red Kool-Aide with three times the amount of sugar. She had also explained all demigods are ADHD and dyslexic- ADHD for battle reflexes and dyslexic so they can read Latin. Apparently Latin was what the Romans spoke. I thought they spoke Romanian or something, seeing as the Greeks spoke Greek.** (even Percy wouldn't say something like that. And yes, he actually says this aloud.)** She tensed up when I said that, like Greeks were bad. Jason had then interjected, saying the Greeks had caused Rome, when their Trojan horse idea ambushed the Trojans. Then Dakota said something under his breath about killing Greeks and never trusting them.

He seemed like an ok guy, if you could get past the drunkenness. Jason was nice and seemed pretty humble, even though his dad is a pretty big deal- having the camp named after him and controlling the heavens and all. He also had incredible skills with a sword, and I knew that would be a problem if we had to spar. Gwen was obviously intelligent and strangely optimistic, saying that "just because some demigods and legacies were killed by monsters, doesn't mean we can't live good lives."

Dakota turned around stared at her, which was bad, seeing as we were hurtling down the road at about 50 miles per hour, and told her that she "could think that way all you want. Next thing you know, you'll have an ally's spear embedded in you during a war game. Where's your optimism then?" We all screamed at him to pay attention to the road. Dakota barely swerved around a parked car. Jason muttered something about us all getting killed because our designated driver was drunk, as Gwen told Dakota pigs would fly before that happened.** (Hoover dam, that was fun to write. But I'm not so sure about "ally"….)**

The rest of the trip passed in silence, aside from Gwen and Jason cursing fluently in Latin every time Dakota almost hit something (which, in case you're wondering, was about once every three minutes. And this was halfway through the trip.) I learned a lot on that road trip- besides the basics of being a demigod, I mean. I got a crash course in Latin that included swears that I still find useful today.

We arrived at camp discreetly. The fauns don't like cars at camp, so Dakota revved the engine and drove the car off a bridge a quarter-mile away from camp **(I don't know what the geography's like, but I looked up San Mateo, which is enough effort for now.) **Gwen, Jason, and I jumped out when he made the decision. Of course, he hadn't told us. Just aimed the rusty green vehicle at the water. He had exited the doomed Jeep barely a second as the front tires left the bridge. The car flew off the bridge and hit the water with a giant splash, soaking us all. We glared at Dakota who took another drink from his flask **(before screaming CONSTANT VIGALANCE!) **and looked at us like we were having a perfectly normal day. Then he pointed to the other side of the bridge and said "We need to get going. Move out, troops!"

Gwen and Jason grumbled at the troops comment, but because we were on a bridge, and there were cars swerving around us and honking their horns, they decided not to argue. I wasn't exactly confident in the centurion's ability to lead us anywhere, myself. We moved as a unit in double time. Dakota studied a tree by the side of the road and declared that north was "that way," and began to lead us in that direction. Gwen refused to moved, and showed him a map she was carrying in her pocket. She told him they needed to go south, "unless you WANT to face Echidna and the Chimera again."

He took a step back when she said that, his face white, then regained his composure and snapped, "I'm centurion here, legionnaire. You take orders from me." She looked at him for a moment, her face displaying disbelief at his attitude. Then she shrank back into attention. "Yes, sir." She didn't look happy about it. Dakota knew he had screwed up, and hastily added, "Duly noted, Gwendolyn. Thank you for your observation." Jason looked astonished, and I could tell Dakota didn't apologize often, if ever. Gwen looked a little surprised, and like a lightbulb had suddenly gone off in her head. I could practically see her mind working as the little bulb I imagined started flashing.

Dakota led us the rest of the way to camp with no trouble, the guards on the outside of Caldecott Tunnel, which is the camp's secret entrance, stepping aside at the centurion's command. I can't really tell you what they said because I was mesmerized. I'm amazed I didn't trip over anything as I gazed in wonder around the secret Roman camp.

I can't describe it really well, even though I stared at it every day for five years. The architecture was amazing, and the camp itself easy enough for a three year old to navigate. First, we walked through the part of camp where the campers actually lived. The barracks for the different cohorts, bathhouse (which is very awesome), _Via Praetoria_ (armory), and mess hall were located here. We had to pass through the Decumanian Gate before we could enter, which was guarded by a god. He let me through without a problem because I was new and didn't have any weapons. He haggled Jason about a coin until the son of Jupiter gave it to a little girl named Stacey. She looked to be about eight years old, and had bouncy blonde hair in tight pigtails. Everyone got their weapons back once we exited the Praetorian Gate. This didn't make sense to me, as there was an armory inside of Terminus's territory, but I'm not about to tell a god what to do.

There were aquaducts forming a straight line from the hills to New Rome. New Rome is basically the city part of camp where we train. The Senate House (where the officers meet), forum, Circus Maximus, and coliseum were all located in New Rome. We passed Hannibal the elephant on our way into New Rome, who likes to participate in the games.

"There are war games every night," Jason explained. "You do well in the games, you can become an officer. Centurion, praetor, senator… whatever. Praetors," he added, seeing the confused look on my face, "are the leaders of Camp Jupiter. There are two- the most powerful and respected people at camp. Usually a demigod, like our current praetors Monica and Adam, but sometimes legacies are up there." "Like Octavian," Gwen interjected. "He's a legacy of Apollo, so he can see the will of the gods. Hangs out in Jupiter Optimus Maximum, Jupiter's temple, gutting stuffed animals and reading the god's will from the stuffing. As crazy as it sounds, it actually works. He's already assisted three of our quests, and no one's gotten maimed or killed on any of them." "It's a new record," Dakota said sarcastically, taking another swig from his flask. "Now stop talking and let's get moving, or we'll all be Lares before we get to adding Mark to the Fifth's glory." He said "glory" sarcastically. I didn't ask because I figured we'd all pushed him enough for today.

If there were four hundred campers (which there were approximately at that time), there were at least four hundred ghosts. Spirits of Romans from every age walked around the camp, cleaning. They were the Lares, as Gwen explained. Housekeeping spirits. They whispered amongst themselves as I passed, some even standing at attention and forming columns for me to walk through. I could feel my friends staring at me, their eyes boring holes in my back as I walked through the lines of the dead. They walked around the Lares, making circles around the spirits in order to start leading me around camp again.

The major buildings were shiny and well-decorated, dedicated to the patrons of Rome. Some of the buildings were kind of depressing, like Neptune's temple (conveniently located on Temple Hill). Neptune is feared by the Romans, and the campers stay away from his temple.

Dakota had us stop at Bacchus's temple, which was a few temples down from Neptune's shack. It was a fairly large temple, with a bunch of grapes making up the roof of it. Every color of grape was used to make a mural for the exterior of the walls. I was really hoping this wasn't my dad. The last thing I needed was to be drunk 24/7. I remembered Mrs. Milroy and her accident, and wondered again if that was my fault as we entered the temple. There was a statue of a god with curly black hair and a purple toga, holding a glass in his right hand. He looked like he was having the time of his life. He didn't look anything like the man I had seen when I was five.

Dakota and Gwen stood next to each other as Dakota set the granola bar he had been keeping in his back pocket on the alter. He loudly thanked Bacchus for delivering us to camp safely and keeping us from getting into a wreck. I hesitantly asked Jason if gods could change their forms. I wouldn't have asked Gwen even if she weren't busy at that moment. I was afraid she would start asking questions. Jason sighed as he looked at the statue before replying that they changed forms often and could be in several different places at the same time. He also said that they sometimes changed personalities, depending on their mood.

I looked at the statue again. From what I had seen of Dakota and what he had asked of his father, I didn't see myself being related to Bacchus. He was not my father, I was sure of it. The god of wine would be out having a good time, not feeling the effects of drinks. If he had created wine and been drinking it since its invention, he had to have immunity from alcohol. The only thing I had seen from the man that claimed to have sired me was bitterness and regret, with maybe a tad of insomnia. While these were all classic traits of one who had been drinking too much for too long, I could not see the murderer of my mother as the god of wine. I have but the mind of a mortal, so my hunches are not always correct.

As we trekked down Temple Hill, I saw a dazzling temple that my companions were pointedly not looking at. Just the way the colors stood out of the black made me want to take a nap. Gwen glanced back and pulled me forward. "Not a good idea, Mark," she said. "Snap out of it." She slapped me in the face, and all tiredness left me. "Ow! What was that for?" I shouted, glaring at her while rubbing my cheek. "It's the temple of Somnus," Jason said nervously. "Just looking at it has been enough to knock campers out for months, put them in comas, or sometimes even kill them. It depends on the god's mood."

"Somnus," I repeated. "God of sleep." Dakota frowned. "How did you know that?" he said incredulously. "Lucky guess," I replied, feeling the power of the temple in my gut. It was similar to what I had felt ten years ago… in the presence of my father. It didn't feel exactly the same. Here it was more welcoming. It almost invited me in to take a nap, and I was tired. I hadn't been able to sleep on the road trip, and fighting the Echidna and Chimera had taken a lot out of me. I could have been hallucinating, thinking back on it. Sleep deprivation makes one look very highly upon going to bed. I had had the same thought about Pluto's temple as we passed by it, mistaking the dark aura surrounding the building for the one my father had been enveloped in.

The more I thought about it, the more it worried me. The god of sleep wouldn't be a murderer. The god of death would, by nature. Am I Jason's cousin? Able to control armies of the undead and vast wealth? A son of death?

Bob had been silent since my first battle. He had been a buzzing presence in my mind since we got to camp, lazily pointing out different weapons the various campers possessed. But at the word _death_, he began to stir.

Stay away from the Lares, he hissed in my mind. I was getting less and less sure that he was actually a part of me the more I learned about being a demigod. They won't hurt you, but they will probably be scared of your presence.

_What? _I spluttered in my mind. _They're dead. What are you saying? That I'm a son of Pluto? Who the hell are you, anyway?_

He didn't say anything else, and I got the feeling that he was berating himself for saying too much. Which is funny, because he barely said two sentences. I didn't want to argue with him, because it felt like arguing with myself, which made me feel insane.

Not that I wasn't already.

I pulled myself out of my daze. As my eyes refocused, I saw Jason and Gwen staring at me, looking worried. "Damn, kid," Dakota said roughly. "We thought you had taken a one-way trip to the fields of Asphodel." They looked genuinely relieved to see me awake. I was lying on my back, and the sun was high in the sky. It was mid-afternoon. "Come on," Jason said, extending a hand and helping me to my feet. "We've got to get going. You have to meet with Octavian before you can join a cohort, and you have to join a cohort before the games can begin. Which," he said nervously, looking at the sun, "begin in approximately two hours."

**I was going to keep going, but I've written a lot, and Rick Riordan never bombarded readers with so much in one chapter. This would have been like two or three chapters in SoN. The next chapter will be up sometime this month, because I want to get other fics done, and I'm only going to do one a week.**

**While I was writing this, I had to force myself to only write commentary on the sides where there were allusions and stuff towards either reality or one of the other books. It doesn't flow the best because I added these things, but….**

**And the whole lightbulb thing? That is probably one of the only AU things that will go on in this fic. And not for very long, either. I have to do something to occupy myself when IT'S SNOWING BEFORE HALLOWEEN. Not here, but still. That's insane.**

**I know I didn't describe the Roman camp very well. I'm not going to explain, because I'll reread this later and think I'm being selfish. I may add a better description later when I finally finish this story. No idea how long that will take because I have other ideas I'd like to work on as well.**

**I don't know if Julia would be here or not. So, I have her older sister playing her role for now. She doesn't play a huge role, but I like canon. This story is/will be mostly canon.**

**I know, I know, I know. Dakota is supposed to be senior centurion. Keep in mind, in SoN he's what, 20? So he's about 15 here. Gwen is like 19. This is five years (ish) before SoN, so…. *does mental math* it's during the Lightning Thief. Ooh! I get to write about the Roman's ideas on Percy! Bonus! And Reyna's not there yet….. Good to know, I almost included her in this chapter. I don't think these things through. So, Gwen's 14, Dakota's 15, Jason's 10, and Mark's 10 in this part of the story. Time will fly by…**

**Where this story is going…..**

**The Roman camp is going to be Mark's new home. He's going to have a good time and won't get maimed, which is good luck for him. His godly parent will be revealed (in two or three chapters), and you people are probably going to get mad at me. But, hey, I was going to completely just throw a random god at you. Now I'm giving some heads up with reasoning. I'm preparing my defenses as to why I'm doing (almost) everything I'm doing in this story (besides messing with your minds, which is fun.) There is a reason, don't worry. I'll probably have a few chapters of him at camp, with time passing. If I stated everything that went on, I'd probably kill myself slowly and/or be so completely wrong Rick Riordan will find this and start laughing hysterically. Little things in the next few chapters, that make time jumps in a more relaxed way, stopping for when important characters enter the story (HINT) or different achievements of characters.**

**Mark is NOT having blackouts like Hazel. I have a reason, and we'll get into that…. Second to last/last chapter of this book.**

**As for the locations and stuff- I used the Welcome to Camp Jupiter pamphlet that came in my copy of SoN. There's a map on the back, which came in handy, though I'm sure I still screwed something up.**

**I have bombarded you with enough information this chapter. You now have three guesses on who Mark's father is- and none of them may be right. Mark and his twisted little mortal head make things interesting, that's for sure.**


	9. Chapter 8

**o.O People have actually been READING this? Holy…. Damn, now I'm all motivated to write. So much for starting United by Fire… I'll probably start working on that after this story (or as soon as I get writer's block again). Thanks for reading!**

We ran up the hill as fast as we could, knocking over some fauns as we went. I heard Dakota cursing in Latin about wishing he could forget Octavian… but I didn't have time to think about that now. We ran up to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Gwen flinging the doors open as we rushed inside. We were panting and breathing hard as this skinny blonde boy wearing a toga chanted in Latin, gutting a hippo Webkinz with a ceremonial dagger. As he pulled out the stuffing and threw the soft carcass aside, red lightning flashed over our heads. He stopped chanting and turned to face us. He had wild blue eyes that looked capable of murder, and looked to be about a year younger than Gwen. I wasn't sure I trusted this guy with my fate, even though it was undoubtedly in his unpredictable hands.

"Welcome, members of the Fifth!" He had a strong, charismatic voice that I associated with politicians and salesmen. Like he wanted to be my friend (so that I would do whatever he wanted me to do). "And," he added, looking at me, "your new recruit. Let me guess. You want me to see if he can join the Legion?"

He certainly got straight to the point. Which was good, considering we had no time. "I was going to read your interrogation before consulting the auguries, but somehow," he stated, glaring at Dakota for a moment, "formalities were… bypassed. How very unusual. Now," he smiled crazily, rubbing his hands together as he took a step forward. "I believe Centurion Dakota wishes the praetors to be left out of this matter. So, his wishes will be acknowledged. You and your cohort can leave the temple, Centurion. I need to interview the new recruit. As you seem to have forgotten to do." Dakota was seething quietly at Octavian's words, and Gwen was trying to hold him back while standing at attention.

"You are dismissed." Octavian waved his hand disdainfully in their direction. Dakota forced a smile and left, managing a slight courtesy bow before turning on his heel and exiting the temple, Gwen and Jason hot on his heels. I could tell none of them liked Octavian, and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out why. There seemed to be a history between Octavian and Dakota…

"So," Octavian started, pulling me out of my thought process, "Tell me how you met the shame of the Legion."

I stared at him for a second, debating whether or not to argue with him. I mean, if the Fifth Cohort was the worst there was- couldn't be. I couldn't see any one soldier taking down the Chimera from any other cohort, even if those other cohorts had better reputations than the Fifth. I hadn't met all the soldiers from the Fifth, but already it felt like a family. A group that would stick up for me no matter what the consequence was.

Do not pick fights you cannot win, Bob said in my head, his mental voice dark and ominous. That is the way of Rome. Conquer or die. Do not try to conquer if there is no way of victory. Octavian is not an enemy you want to have. He has most of the camp under his thumb. He can control your fate, if you let him.

That was comforting. I listened to his advice (for once), and didn't start to argue with either Octavian or him. Obviously I can't win when arguing with myself, and he was probably right- somehow.

I patiently explained how the battle had gone, and how if the Fifth hadn't interjected when they did, I'd be dead. He stared at me while I was talking, unblinking. I felt like his eyes were seeing into my soul and through me at the same time, and not in a good way. It felt as though he were examining me for faults and screw-ups that would impact his precious Legion- or, more probably, his chances of grabbing more power.

"You haven't been to the Wolf House?" he said, frowning. "And you haven't had your interrogation by the praetors? This isn't protocol… but nothing about your story is. I'll clear it because Rome needs all the soldiers it can get. I have foreseen a great battle in the near future…"

He trailed off, gutting a Beanie Baby absentmindedly and putting the beans on the altar. He studied the pile for a second as a flash of red lightning lit the ceiling. "Excellent. The gods agree. You will be a valuable asset for Rome. Good luck, Mark," he said, putting out his hand. I shook it nervously. "You'll need it. Train hard, and always remember, _aut vincere aut mori_."

He spoke with such finality, it was hard to tell if he was being friendly and wishing me well, or planning my funeral. "Conquer or die," I said, looking him in the eyes without flinching. He nodded, smiling normally. Maybe he wasn't completely crazy. Spending all your time in a temple, gutting stuffed animals and reading the will of the gods, had to have an impact on one's sanity.

I exited the temple in a hurry, and bumped into Jason, who was standing just outside the door. "That was fast," he said, helping me up. "So you've been accepted?" Gwen asked. "Obviously," Dakota spat, still thinking about Octavian. "Let's go, Mark. We have five minutes to get to muster."

**-sigh- Another cliffy, and one that is a lot like last chapter's. This is probably my shortest chapter…. Ever. I was going to continue, but then it wouldn't get done until Thursday. While that's within the week that I promised, I would keep putting it off and it wouldn't get done until next week. Bad author! Bad! Muster is next, maybe war games in there, dunno yet. Mainly working on the time-skip chapters right now.**

**I'm kind of making a rivalry between Dakota and Octavian. I don't really have a reason, but I'll probably add some sort of history between the two later. So, no reason YET. Anyone that can think of one gets a blue virtual cookie!**

**It may seem like Octavian is a good person here. I haven't made any opinions about him yet, besides that he's greedy and probably shouldn't be trusted, so I'm trying to only reflect what we know so far into this... and make him a little nicer because he's younger now without much experience. The war will probably change him somehow… probably figure that one out during the fourth or fifth book.**

**I dunno if Hazel and Frank will be in here. Maybe as brand-new recruits… I have to do the math. Bleh. Stupid math! It feels like I have to calculate something for every chapter! Oh well, it's canon. This is the price I pay…**

**Review or Kronos will come out of Tartarus and FIND YOU!**


	10. Chapter 9

**I was writing this on VACATION because I felt bad that I didn't get it done earlier. CURSE YOU, GUILT! Also, what's up with no one reviewing my other stories? Waiting for this or what? Seriously feeling the love here (Oatmeal fans, don't kill me, it had to be said). I mean, yes. People did review. And thank you to those who did. :) But on the one story? NO ONE. It was actually kind of sad, because I spent more time and effort on it than I do on the average Traitor chapter. Also kind of glad that no one liked it, because I had an excuse to delete it. I didn't really like it to begin with, and had no motivation to continue. So curse you and thank you (Perry the Platypus!).**

**Why was this late? Takes time. I've been working on this in increments. I have a life, you know. However small, I have a life. Most of it is homework.**

**You haven't updated for two weeks! So you noticed. Vacation eats up a lot of time, then there's getting back into school with work that was missed. BLEH.**

**So I cut the last chapter off short…. Here's basically the second part of that chapter and what would have been this chapter!**

We ran to the rest of the Legion, who were standing at attention at the gates. Dakota began to call role for the rest of the Fifth Cohort, which was at the end of the line of soldiers. The Lares stood behind them. I stood off to the side with a few guards, and was far enough away from the Lares to be comfortable. I still couldn't get Bob's warning out of my mind. I really hoped I wasn't a son of Pluto. As much sense as it would make, I knew bad things happened to the children of Pluto. They would hang around the dead, and would be feared by the living. So far, I was 1 for 3. I was also hoping it wouldn't stay that way. I didn't want to be feared, or want to hang out with dead people. I see dead people, yes. But it's Camp Jupiter, where Lares make up half the population. What I was really hoping for was that nothing else extremely sucky would happen to me. Schist, I was wrong.

The praetors stood at the front of all the cohorts, Octavian standing near them at the front of the First Cohort. I didn't understand how he could have that position, until I remembered that he was the augur. Those who possess the power to tell the future are valuable allies, and horrible enemies. They can turn everyone against you out of fear for their futures and destinies. If they were to become corrupt… bad things would happen.

Monica had highlighted, slightly curled brown hair and piercing green eyes. The tips of her almost elfin ears were poking out of her helmet. Adam had straight light red hair and cloudy brown eyes. He had the facial features of a Roman statue- the hawk-like nose, large forehead, and pointed chin. His posture was commanding and straight, like he was daring any to oppose his might. Adam was tall, and the height difference between the two praetors was comical. He looked like he regularly went tanning, which confused me. I thought Romans were antifun and all militaristic. One of the few things I'm happy to report being wrong about. Not that I'm right a lot of the time. Pluto, no. Nine times out of ten, I'm the idiot that doesn't know what to do.

They got right to business. After role call, Octavian introduced me to the other members of Camp Jupiter. There was much cheering, but not for me. That would have been awkward. I heard someone in the First mutter something about "Another loser for the Fifth," but the rest was lost to Monica screaming at them to shut their mouths- in Latin, no less. I liked her spirit. She seemed like someone I could depend on. Someone who would get things done, and get them done efficiently. She was short, yes, but intimidating. Yet another person at camp I didn't want to get on the wrong side of.

Then I was asked about recommendation letters. There was a long, awkward pause, until Dakota stopped drinking his Kool-Aide long enough to step forward. Once again, he looked drunk. He was barely walking straight, and I saw Gwen crossing her fingers in her spot in the Fifth. Jason was biting his lip, either nervously or to restrain himself from doing exactly what Dakota was doing- speaking out of turn, and sarcastically to boot.

"What do you think?" he practically snarled. "He's new here. I found him myself. No guardian in sight, and if there was, they weren't stupid enough to stick around. Give him a chance. The auguries were favorable. Octavian said so himself."

Octavian frowned, not wanting to help Dakota, but somehow wanting me to be a part of the camp. He nodded slowly. "Marcus will be a… valuable asset," he admitted. "And Rome needs all the soldiers it can get. I have foreseen a great battle in the near future. One that will determine our fate, as well as the fate of Olympus."

Apparently, he hadn't had the foresight to share this little nugget of information with the rest of Camp Jupiter. The praetors frowned, their brows creasing in concentration, as pandemonium broke out. The ranks began to break up as some of the younger soldiers screamed. Dakota turned around and looked at me. _What?_ he mouthed.

Monica and Adam yelled in unison, "QUIET!" Surprisingly, this was in English, which was almost a relief. Adam shot a glare at Octavian, his eyes clearly saying _We'll discuss this later._ "Recruit admitted!" Monica yelled over the crowd. "Which cohort shall claim him?"

Well, that was a stupid question. Dakota rolled his eyes. "The Fifth would be honored," he said, mocking an elaborate bow. "We'll take him," the Fifth's other centurion snapped tersely.

"Very well then!" Adam said over the murmur of soldiers still whispering. "I SAID QUIET!" The whispering stopped, and the praetor continued. "Thank you. Now it is time for the evening meal, and then deathball shall commence!" The soldiers cheered, and we went off to the dining hall, my guards abandoning me at the first word.

**I wasn't going to include dinner, but couldn't think of a suitable alibi or transition. It kind of sucks. Fair warning.**

Dinner was interesting. Romans sat on couches, with the senators, praetors, and centurions eating together and probably discussing Octavian's slip. There was a wide berth around him, and I felt sorry for him. I wanted to invite him to sit with us, but that probably would have been awkward. Mainly because he and Dakota obviously didn't get along. Wind nymphs served us different platters of food. I got pepperoni pizza and was even allowed to get a goblet of soda, a treat at Aunt Tina's. It wasn't_ home_ any more. I had no connections there. She hadn't really cared about me, just her reputation as a lawyer. Anything and everything could and would come up against you in a background search in her business. She didn't need an abandoned nephew to go along with her two missing kids. _Home_ was there. Camp Jupiter. With friends and probably a new family (siblings) and fun.

The most interesting thing about dinner was Dakota. He sat off to the side at our table, drinking out of his flask. Gwen watched him and sighed. Jason explained that it was almost a tradition for him to get "drunk" on his super-sugary Kool-Aide before any of the activities after dinner. War games, deathball, chariot and gladiator competitions… You name it, he'll drink himself senseless for it. He added that he was shocked Dakota hadn't been kicked out yet for it.

Gwen had looked at him and reminded him that Monica was his half-sister. "As much as demigods may hate other demigods, they help each other because they're related. And it would look really bad on you if you preach this to the blood-thirsty campers that agree with Adam, son of Mars, then kick out your own half-brother. Adam knows he can't touch him because he's related to Monica."

"Yes, our court jester," the Fifth's other centurion had sneered. "Which Rome so badly needs. Even this mere child could replace him, and do a job better by tenfold!"

Dakota had just looked at him and threw his magical goblet at him, then screamed something about him stealing his "magic juice." None of the other campers had even looked up, most were still sitting around, subtly pointing at Octavian and whispering. I had gotten the impression that they were really shook up with the prediction of a war, and that Adam was disgusted that he was in charge of a bunch of pathetic and terrified Romans.

"DEATHBALL!"

The cry went out, the soldiers shaking their weapons at the sky. The cohorts were organized into a sort of parade to enter the arena towards our deaths. No one had actually died during this game, but they called it deathball because it was the most likely game to cause death. War games had more casualties than any other activity.

The Fifth was going up first, as a kind of living shield for the Third and Fourth. We marched in rows of four, everyone in their exact position. It was considered a bad omen if we got out of line even for a second. It wasn't easy. That armor weighed a ton, and I wasn't used to strain on my body back then. I knew not to complain, though. I had seen that Dakota was very relaxed compared to the other centurions. One girl in the Third Cohort had stumbled over her shield and her senior centurionhad her taken to the barracks to be sewn into a bag of weasels and thrown into the river. When she had complained (like a new recruit, Dakota had said, looking on), the senior centurion had sentenced her to also cleaning the bull pen at the coliseum, and scrubbing the streets clean with a toothbrush- after the victory parade.

"That sucks," said Gwen, shocking us. She's normally such an optimist, so it was bizarre for her to see the world as it truly is, instead of making it look more appealing. "The unicorns and horses tend to take giant dumps during parades." "They get all temperamental that they can't participate in war games, so they take it out on the roads and any sucker who happens to be forced to clean them that day," Dakota chimed in. The other centurion, a snobby-looking teenager with his nose high in the air, jerked his head at Dakota for him to get back in formation. He looked so arrogant, I was astonished Dakota didn't break his nose with his Kool-Aide flask. He probably didn't want to risk breaking it.

"Great," Jason snorted sarcastically as Dakota took his position as centurion. "We're going to get pummeled again." He put his shield on the ground and took one last look at the sky before we entered the building that was to serve as the deathball arena. "Why us?" I asked, not exactly sure if it was my own bad luck rubbing off or what. Jason sighed, then looked at me. "We're not supposed to mention it. Bad luck." "Not something Fortuna smiles upon?" I quipped. I earned a smile from Jason, his scarred lip not splitting as it was stretched. It had probably been there for a long time. As I had learned the hard way, mouth wounds do not heal quickly, and are finicky creatures at the best of times. If you really need to know, I was trying to juggle knives when I was little. I saw a comic… You know what? Don't ask. It's complicated. Let's just leave it at that.

ANYWAY, so Jason started explaining the story of the lost eagle of Rome. How we had been Armed With Lightning, but now were nothing without our standard. He talked about how it was supposed to be an honor to bear the standard, but now was a big joke. Our cohort had lost it, and had lost the honor and respect of Camp Jupiter and the gods with it. Then I understood the looks I had gotten when I had been selected by the Fifth, supposedly the worst cohort at camp. I shook my head at that, telling Jason, "if we're really the worst at camp, then why is the only son of Lord Jupiter with the Fifth? After all, the camp is named after him." Jason had smiled, looking thoughtfully at the sky. "Maybe it's my destiny to bring pride back to the Fifth," he had replied. "Maybe I'll find the standard and become a praetor."

We were marching in the arena, and had just gotten to our position when the First, Second, Third, and Fourth Cohorts had picked up their paintball guns. We were basically the dividing line between them. As Praetor Monica counted down, I began to crouch, muscles tensing. Even under the armor, I was preparing myself for the worst. Dakota saw me and came over. He smacked my helmet with the butt of his sword. His words began to vibrate as the metal banged around my ears. "What are you doing?" he hissed, looking furious under his helmet. "Romans don't cower!" "Not if they want to live," Jason and I said at the exact same time. We looked at each other and started cracking up. Unfortunately, during our moment of hysteria, the game had begun. While my mouth was open, a deathball the size of a grape entered. I began choking, the acid burning in my mouth. All I could hear was shouting as I hazily thought it would've been worse if it was actually on fire. Then, there was darkness.

**Hahaha, Mark has really bad luck. Maybe Fortuna really does curse those who mention the eagle! OH NOES! I MENTIONED IT! This is why Romans don't laugh. They're paranoid creatures. Don't eat the acid, Mark! I was going to leave it off here, but I really don't want to make this into a seventy chapter story. That would annoy me to Hades and I would (probably) put this on hiatus. Then I would spend my time on the other stories I want to write. Also, guilt makes me not want to abandon you people with another sucky short chapter. Maybe this counts as a two-in-one update, I don't even know. Never mind that, on with the show!**

As I opened my eyes, I found myself in a plain white room. I was lying in a hammock, with several other empty hammocks in rows through the room. My mouth felt like it actually had been on fire, and my throat felt raw. Maybe it had been a poisoned deathball. Dakota stood over me, and sighed in relief when he saw that my eyes were open. "Thank the gods," he breathed. "We thought you were dead!" He caught me looking at him strangly, surprised that he actually might care. He was, after all, a drunk. Which might have made him emotionally unstable, now that I think about it. "And then I would have busted my asino getting you into camp for nothing!" he hastily added. "Oh, shut up, Dakota," Gwen said, coming into the room, smiling as usual. "You know you care, at least a little bit, about Mark. Now, stop pretending and get over yourself." I would have said exactly the same thing, if I could have talked. Well, pretty much. I don't talk about myself in the third person. Coming from Gwen, it was insane. She's a total optimist, always trying to make the best of any situation. Sarcasm is almost a foreign concept to her. Almost, because she hangs out with Jason and Dakota too much to be a stranger to it. Was I still knocked out? Or dead? Or possibly dreaming?

Gwen smirked at our astonished faces. "I'm translating," she said. "I understand Mark enough to know that he would have said that if he was able. Don't try to talk," she instructed, facing me, and turning her back to Dakota. He pouted for a second, leaving me wondering what was going on between the two. "For all we know, you might never be able to again, and stretching your vocal chords this early into the recovery is NOT a wise idea." Oh, right, I thought, mentally smacking myself. Legacy of Minerva. She would have the intelligence to back up any theory she possessed. Plus, brains enough to understand people and their personalities at a glance- to realize what their true goals were, and discover weaknesses. She had more in common with the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy than I had originally thought. Gwen could be soft-spoken and optimistic enough to distract you from her plans. Not that she was normally like that. She was normally buoyant and quiet, but also used these normal mannerisms as a ploy when she was suspicious. I could never tell when she was being underhanded. She just was from time to time. I'm amazed I was able to figure it out at all.

"I'll bet you want to know how the game ended," Jason said, entering the room with a scowl. "Sorry, Dakota sent a messenger to tell me you're up. He's been neglecting his duties to watch after you, claiming it was his fault." The centurion in question was staring at the celling, quickly turning the color of his Kool-Aide. His face almost matched the color of his lips, which were stained red from the amount of Kool-Aide he drank daily, when Jason rolled his eyes. "Our other centurion, Steve, refused to take over Dakota's duties. He went to Monica and Adam about it, and they fired him. He's been downgraded to _probatio_ status. Probation," he interjected hastily, for my benefit. Having only been at camp for a day, his translations were much appreciated. I mean, I could understand some, from instinct and being around other people that spoke it so that I could hear it, but I had still only been at camp for less than a day. "Our praetors were not pleased. They called me in, and because I'm 'apparently the only one who ever tries to get anything done in the Fifth,' I'm the new centurion."

We stared at him for a second in shock. No one knew what this would mean for the future of the Fifth, though it certainly couldn't be worse than Steve's lousy work. Then Gwen's face broke into a huge smile. "Congrats," she said, walking over to Jason and ruffling his hair while shaking his hand. He stared at her, his sky-blue eyes wide, and returned a little smile. It was a sad smile, though, full of secrets and the past. "They're right. There's no one better." Dakota scowled and shook his head. Gwen noticed and rolled her eyes. "That doesn't yet have an office. Is that better?" she asked pointedly, then turned her back to him again. He shook his head again, the scowl still deeply etched in his face. He saw me studying his face and shook his head, pointing at Gwen and Jason so that I would pay attention to the conversation.

They were going on about Steve's failings and almost gossiping about his mistakes and arrogance. Jason kept miming him strutting around like he owned the place, and I had to stop myself from making a noise and straining my vocal chords- because A. it would hurt and B. it was probably a bad idea to get on Gwen's bad side. I had failed to notice the new medal he wore on his purple shirt, catching the light as he moved.

He was just beginning to mime Steve cleaning swords in the armory for a week when a harried-looking messenger appeared, throwing open the door. "Centurion Jason wants-" she began, then stopped, noticing the aforementioned centurion standing in the room. "I'm sorry, sir! I came as fast as I could! Please don't have me sewn into a sack of weasels!" she begged, throwing herself at his feet. It was the same girl from the Third that had so idiotically argued with a superior officer. She was dressed in the simple woven tunic of a slave, and her long blonde hair was dirty and wet. Her feet were bare, and there were long, bleeding scratches on her legs. She looked as though she had run all the way over here. Jason looked shocked, and took a step back. "I would never…" he whispered, then composed himself. "I wasn't here, okay? You delivered your message," He turned wildly to face us. "I WASN'T HERE. Got it?" We nodded quickly. "Sir," she cried, standing up. "Please. There's a meeting- a Senate meeting- immediately. They want to confirm your new position. And Senior Centurion Dakota has to go to! I mean, Senior Centurion Miller and Centurion Jason must go to the-"

"We got it," Dakota snapped. "Now get out." She ran out in a hurry, looking like a frightened deer caught in headlights, tripping over a rock on her way. Jason and Gwen stared at him in shock. Gwen was the first to come back to her senses. "Are you nuts? What the PLUTO is wrong with you!" she screamed, punching him in the gut. He sagged, and she came in with her fist, winding up to put more power in the blow. His knee made a sickening crack, and I yelled at the top of my lungs, "STOP IT! YOU'RE GOING TO KI-" but at the L's my voice cut out. It hurt worse than choking on that stupid acid ball had. Far worse. Probably because my throat was healing, and the flesh was really sensitive.

Gwen stared at me, Dakota's hair in her hands. Jason was still staring at Dakota, his jaw slack, in a total daze. Dakota wasn't trying to do anything to defend himself. He simply said, "Stop talking, kid, or you'll never recover." Gwen looked down at his face, trying to read him. "He's not a kid! He's only five years younger than you! And who are you to tell him to shut up! You almost got him killed! You always pretend you don't care about anything! And now look what you've gone and done!"

She dropped him, and he fell to the floor, looking utterly broken and defenseless. She pointed at the door. "WHAT in Jupiter's name was THAT all about?"

Jason snapped out of his trance. "I only sent for a messenger. I asked Bobby to do it. Not her. Not right…" he whispered sadly. "Wanted to give Bobby something to do so he wouldn't get in trouble again."

Dakota sighed, sitting up, his nose gushing blood after its impact with the floor. "Good thing we're already in the medical station," he muttered. "Should've known she'd go all ninja on me." He looked at her with resignation, almost depressed.

"Don't be all sarcastic with me," Gwen snapped, the glare in her eyes softening a fraction, with… affection? What was going on between these two? Dakota coughed once, spitting a fair amount of blood onto the floor. "Battle strategies. I always forget battle strategies. And the determination to win." He looked at Gwen again. "Didn't want her to be in trouble. Like Jason said, now it doesn't look like she was here. I hate slaves. Felt like I was one my first year at camp. I was always screwing up. Praetors didn't know what to do with me, and no one wants to offend my father. Not that I've ever heard anything from him. Bacchus isn't known for being fatherly. More like the opposite. Not that I hate-hate the slaves. More pity. People aren't made slaves very often. When they have a mouth on them, like Jason and I do, they're usually a slave. If they keep it shut, like Jason is strangely able to, they can survive in the normal Roman/camp society. But we've got to get going," he said, standing up and squeezing his nose to stop the blood flow. "You have any idea how much trouble she'll be in if we aren't on our way?" At our blank expressions, he shook his head. "It'll make what Gwen just did look like a piece of cake. Or Kool-Aide. Yes, Kool-Aide. You," he said, pointing at me, "Rest. If I hear that you got up or spoke one word, I will spike your nectar with acid, and you will be on reprieve for two more weeks. And you," he said, pointing at Gwen, who looked down in shame, "Don't do that again. I'm your commanding officer. Try to remember that. And," he added as almost an afterthought as Gwen looked up in astonishment, "take this. I won't be needing it anymore."

He threw a small metallic green object at her face, which she caught easily. She stared at it in wonder, a smile growing on her face, as Dakota and Jason ran out the door to the Senate meeting. "Go to sleep, Mark," she whispered, still smiling. "Tomorrow will be a better day."

I closed my eyes, letting the comfort of sleep overwhelm me. The last thing I saw was Dakota's Kool-Aide flask in Gwen's hand, held just over her heart, as she turned out the light.

**Awww. Happy ending. Almost too fluffy, but whatever.**

**Gwen is almost on something in here. Happy, then scary angry, then happy again. The children- and therefore descendants- of Athena/Minerva seem to be like that. Their buttons get pushed easily.**

**This is the answer to anyone who's ever wondered where the Party Ponies got their paintball guns. They stole them from the Romans. The Romans don't like centaurs, and now you know why. They're "uncivilized," as Frank puts it. Or, the Romans teach their campers that centaurs get drunk and kill heroes. Plus, there's the whole 'another breed of centaurs trying to invade the Roman camp' thing.**

**If anyone even ASKS if Dakota is gay, he will come after you with a gladius. Do you want a drunk with a sword after you? I thought not. He's just uncomfortable. He's used to being uncaring, which is because he makes himself drunk off his uber-sugary Kool-Aide, but because of Gwen… Well, that'll be a one-shot I'll upload later. Yes, there are hints of DakotaXGwen. I have no idea if that's a canon pairing or not, but I don't care. I want to take a few liberties, or change it later. Once again, I'm working on writing instead of doing homework, so you people can't even complain.**

**I'm enjoying putting little references to the future in here. Spear in Gwen's back, finding the standard, becoming praetor… it's just fun. No one's noticed yet, but they will now.**

**Hmm… Jason's centurion? Why? How about why not? I has a plan, and it's actually getting more detailed the more this story goes on. (Which makes it so hard to keep this story canon. Rick hasn't gone into these minor details yet. It doesn't help that we know next to nothing about Jason, who is a major character. Well, he's praetor during part of the series, and I don't see how he could go from soldier to praetor. But why isn't Percy leading the quest to stop Gaea? OH NOES! ANNABETH!) Like, I have the master plan of action, and know where I'm going, but I'm getting more little plot bunnies. YAY PLOT BUNNIES! And I know no one will be interested, but if anyone wants to try to beta this story… best of luck to you. PM me if you're interested. Department of redundancy department!**

**How long will this story be? I HAVE NO FREAKING IDEA. Never ask the author this. I should probably address the reviews, but maybe later. I might not answer the ones about his dad because I would give it away.**

**One of the more pathetic things about this story is that I have no idea what Gwen looks like. I've described the praetors, who aren't even major characters, and can't even describe Gwen yet. Poop. I might just have to make something up and insert it into the earlier chapters.**

**Wow, no grammar Nazis have complained yet. Yes! I KNOW, I KNOW. It needs work. Whoop de doo. There is effort being made (pointing this out for the third-ish time). And, no one that's nearly as nit-picky as I am, either. I notice details, such as that Octavian was standing with the praetors. This is in the past, so he isn't in the First yet. He'll probably go over during the war because they're afraid of his power or something. I'll work on it…**

**To clear up the senior centurion, there are two centurions per cohort. One is senior and the other is just normal. That's what I gather from the Camp Half Blood wiki, so go argue with them if you have a problem with it.**

**Also, I have no idea if Romans make idiots into slaves. The other centurions are strict, and the Third's senior centurion is not someone you want to mess with.**

**I have no idea what Dakota's last name is. If Rick Riordan chooses to reveal it in the series, I will change it. For now, it is Miller.**

**I have met my goal to make this my longest chapter yet, so I am satisfied for now. Stay tuned for more of the crap we call my writing!**

**MAGIC JUICE!**


	11. Chapter 10

I woke up to an empty room. _Great, they've abandoned me again,_ I thought resentfully, then immediately felt guilty. They had lives outside of me and my injuries. _Jason and Dakota are centurions,_ _remember,_ I thought, _and they have jobs to do. Everyone has a part to play for the glory of Rome, after all. No position is small. All are equally important in the grand scheme, although it sounds like total bull. I'm not stupid enough to argue with a superior officer, especially after what happened to that girl that mouthed off. And because they carry deadly weapons at all times. Actually, that's probably the most important reason._

I had slept for hours, maybe days, as the sun was setting and cast a glow through the window, washing the room in orange. My throat felt better, sore, but no longer burning. I shuddered at the memory of the pain. That had truly been Fate conspiring against me. Or was it the Fates? I wondered if that was how vampires felt. An uncontrollable burning bursting in their throats….

While their throats burn, the fire increases when humans are near, Bob's all-too familiar voice spoke into my mind. The need for blood- to quench the fire in their throats- causes them to lose control and attack.

_Nice to hear from you again,_ I thought sarcastically. _Now how would you know, if you're a figment of my imagination and only know what I know?_

Bob snorted in my mind. You of little faith, he said condolingly. Who said anything about me imaginary or a part of you? Well, he reconsidered, the part of you is somewhat accurate. 

_Who are you, then? _I mentally screamed. _What are you? What the Pluto are you talking about? And what are you doing in my head? Am I going insane!_

Relax, he spoke soothingly, his deep voice echoing in my brain. You're not insane. And I'm not going to hurt you. I am a part of you, and have been from the day your mother died. Your father sent me to teach, protect, and nurture you, in all the ways a good Roman should be. I am but a servant, but you are destined to save my master. And his master, indirectly. Keep strong your faith, and know this: Your father cares. And he is watching.

I felt his presence diminishing, even as I mentally responded. _Let's get something straight here,_ I snarled. _You aren't a part of me. My father doesn't care. If he did, he wouldn't have killed my mother. I don't even know who he is. You didn't even tell me your name. I don't want to be a Roman, not if it means killing those close to me. Not at the cost of life. And I don't care about him. I want him to leave me alone and stay out of my life. Everything, everything, EVERYTHING sucky that's happened to me has happened because of HIM. Now get out of my head, and stay away from me!_

Beware the daughter of Iris, Bob warned, his voice getting softer as he drifted away into the furthest corners of my consciousness. She will be your undoing.

He was still there, dormant in my head. My head felt the same as it had before he had spoken to me- empty. But I knew what to look for, and I could feel him curled in the recesses of my mind. There probably wasn't a way to get rid of him. But that sure as Jupiter didn't mean I wasn't going to try.

It was early the next morning that Jason came back to my little prison, fuming. I hadn't been able to get any more sleep, and had been wide awake, thinking about what Bob had said. Iris? What was he talking about? Was he another ghost that wouldn't leave me alone? A spirit from my past? Now that I lived in the mythological world, nothing seemed too ridiculous to be fiction. Every horror novel I read had flitted through my mind, keeping me wide awake.

"Slavery was outlawed," Jason growled as he entered. "The Civil War proved it was a bad idea. We need to get out of the old ways and realize that it doesn't work. It's not punishment. It's _torture_. They have no right to do this. The Senate is corrupt to allow this to happen. Making slaves of the sons and daughters of gods and goddesses is a _stupid _idea. Rome will make immortal enemies that will smite us in an instant. "

Gwen came in halfway through his rant and made a visible effort to stay out of his way as he paced the long room. "Don't forget the legacies," she added in a dull voice, anger clearly visible on her face. "Just because we're only descendants of gods and heroes doesn't make us any less important. But, in a depressing nutshell, yes."

"If the Senate keeps this up, the gods will no longer bless us," Dakota said. Gwen and Dakota turned towards him. Evidently, I wasn't the only one that hadn't seen the older centurion enter. "Camp Jupiter will burn and die, and another civil war will break out. One that we cannot win."

"We lost the first one," Gwen gently reminded him. He glared at her, the reminder causing him to scowl. He reached toward his belt, only to remember that he had given her his flask.

"We are Romans," he said, breathing deeply to ease his anger, his voice tight. "We don't lose."

"Only to Greeks," came a voice from the door. My friends whirled toward the door, Dakota and Gwen freeing swords and knives from their belts. Jason pulled a gold coin out of his pocket and clutched it tightly, ready to flip it at a moment's notice. I felt weak because I was lying in bed, defenseless, looking like an invalid with my throat wrapped in gauze and bandages.

Octavian strutted in like he owned the place. "Greetings, centurions," he said politely, nodding in their direction. Dakota growled softly. "And Gwendolyn, of course." He smiled distractedly, his crazy eyes looking directly at me. "I'd like a word with Mark for a minute. Privately."

He turned to Jason. "If you please, Centurion," he said after a second's pause. The two bowed respectfully- with a little resentment- to one another, and Jason motioned the others out the door. The peeling white wooden door that I had unwittingly stared at while I was off in my own world slammed shut after Dakota. The bang echoed in my head, and I internally winced. Was I really alone with this guy that my friend had made an enemy of? Isn't the saying the enemy of my friend is my enemy?*

After the door shut, Octavian pulled around the curtain (that I, of course, hadn't noticed earlier, being an idiot and not looking up) that hung between my hammock and the hammock next to me. I wondered if he was nuts, or if I was about to be seriously injured. He studied me with... concern. This was highly disconcerting, and made me wonder if I was dreaming and had actually fallen asleep. Maybe the whole Roman thing was a dream, after all….

That was too much to hope for, apparently. "How are you feeling? A simple gesture will suffice, of course." I nodded and rolled my eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "Come on. You can stop being Roman in the infirmary. We don't 'die all the time and like it,' as Vitallus the Ridiculous says." He laughed bitterly at that.

I shrugged halfheartedly, still wondering why he was there, and what my friends were up to.

"That's what I thought," he smirked slightly. He got up and went to the other side of the room, and opened a wooden cabinet. I heard the clinking of little glass pill bottles and the _whoosh_ of water as he turned on a sink that I hadn't noticed. Octavian washed out a clear plastic cup that sat on the side of the sink. He then filled it with something that looked like apple juice. The juice came in what appeared to be a wine bottle from the cabinet. He stuck a bendy straw in it, and I immediately wondered if it was poisoned.

Pluto, I was unobservant. Staring at the door for hours, memorizing the patterns of the wood, instead of looking at the corners of the room where interesting stuff was located? Then again, I was only a ten-year-old kid with next-to-no Roman experience that had ingested freaking _acid_….

The augur walked back to my hammock, careful not to spill a drop of the liquid, and handed the cup to me. "Drink," he commanded. I looked at him for a moment, the cup secure in my grasp. I wasn't totally weak, after all. "It'll make you feel better," he explained. I took a cautious sip. It tasted nothing like apple juice. It was somehow warm and sweet, like the liquid vanilla ice cream my aunt gave me when I earned all A's for the year in kindergarten.

Before I knew it, the glass was empty. My forehead felt slightly warm, like the beginning of a fever. "When your friends in the Fifth return, motion to the glass by the sink. If they ask if you had nectar, nod vigorously. Too much nectar- or ambrosia, for that matter- will make a demigod or legacy burn up. Literally. As to my presence…" Octavian shrugged. "I had to make sure you were ok. After all, I allowed you into Camp Jupiter, listening to your story against my better judgment."

"But why?" I spoke hoarsely. It hurt- a lot- to speak, and it was probably a stupid idea, anyway, but I had to ask.

Octavian scowled. "Shut up!" he demanded, looking at the door fearfully. "I don't have much time left to talk with you- well, to you, actually- as it is, without you talking! Your friends will approach any second. If they hear that I had you talk, I will be in so much trouble!"

It was funny, the thought of the augur scared of two centurions and a soldier from the Fifth. It probably had something to do with Jason, as he didn't appear to be afraid of Dakota in Jupiter's temple. Jason had been there, too, though… He sure acted confident and arrogant if he was actually afraid of those three.

"I'm helping you because you are going to help out this camp. I can't let you die now. Or be handicapped for life after a war game. As you heard during your acceptance into the Legion, there is a war coming. And you will play a major part in it. As will your friends, from what the gods have shown me in the stuffing. Besides that…" he trailed off awkwardly. I waited expectantly, my eyes wide.

"It's what my dad would have done. He was the augur before me, and he always tried to help the soldiers from all the cohorts. Citizens, he called them. We're all members of Rome, no matter what our occupation or stance in life." He smiled regretfully, his eyes dark. "It's my goal in life to be like him. It is expected of me, anyway. I must live up to his , for it is the duty of the son to surpass his father. His legacy was the best gift he could have given me."

He looked like he was alone, off in his own little world where no one could bring him back. I knew the feeling all too well. Octavian snapped back to reality suddenly, his face expectant.

"As part of my resolution, I want to help you in whatever way possible. Prepare you for your fate. To do this, I will contact the gods… and help you discover the identity of your father."

**I was going to leave off here, but… I have been neglecting writing, and this story needs to pick up the pace. So….. MORE WRITING!**

I'll admit it- I was shocked.

Who would have thought Octavian would be willing to help me find my father? I still didn't understand why. After losing his father, I sort of realized that he didn't want anyone else to have to go through what he had, but how would he know anything about my heritage? I hadn't even told Gwen, Jason, or Dakota

I opened my mouth to speak, but he put his hand up. "What did I tell you about speaking?" he hissed, then sighed. "I saw your mother and father in a vision two years ago. In almost a flashback from the future. It was a dark cave with Latin on the walls… I didn't have enough time or light to make it out. I was only concentrating on the two beings. It was the first time I was able to see the future, and my old man told me it was crucial to the fate of Rome- the first vision an augur sees always is."

My jaw dropped. He knew? But how was I important to anyone or anything? Rome was fine without me! I was just the new recruit with a demon inside his head, for crying out loud!

Hey, Bob said. I'm not a demon. And I can hear you, you know.

I had felt him stirring in my mind when Jason came in. Evidently, he wasn't one to miss out on the action.

I can go through your thoughts, hear what you've heard, see what you've seen, but that takes work. It's easier to "awaken," as it is, and observe the here and now. This way, I give you privacy as well.

_Congrats_, I snarled._ You're gifted. Awesome. Now get the Jupiter out of my head or gods help me-_

Then Dakota burst into the room, sword in hand, Jason and Gwen at his heals. "You've had your talk, slimeball," he growled menacingly. "Now get your _podex _out of here this instant!"

"I wasn't done," Octavian said politely, a slight edge of menace in his voice. I wasn't sure if he was scared stiff or if his earlier fears had been an act.

"You've had your minute," Gwen smiled, anger in her voice. "Actually, twenty of them. Now, out."

He sighed. "Thank you for your time, Mark." He bowed deeply, as if the pleasure had been all his. "And thank you, members of the Fifth, for your patience." This time, his bow was shallow, almost sarcastic. But I had seen a hint of genuine gratitude when he apologized- probably because he was looking at Gwen, who had most likely stopped Jason and Dakota (but mostly Dakota) from busting out the (magic) weapons and breaking down the door nineteen minutes ago.

As the door shut behind the augur, Gwen glanced at me, her eyes betraying her concern.

"What just happened?" she asked, standing by my hammock awkwardly. Whoever had designed this medical prison had neglected to add chairs for visitors. But what normal Romans visited allies in the infirmary? They would be on the battlefield, trying to extract revenge on the enemies that injured the friend in the first place…

I shrugged once, then spoke in a raspy voice. It made me feel better, despite the pain, to speak. It assured me that I wouldn't permanently lose it.

"I have no idea."

Dakota glared at me. "If you don't stop talking, I'll get a medic in here to stitch your lips shut," he threatened. Then his glare softened. "Get some rest, okay, kid? We have war games tomorrow, and everyone is required to attend."

"Even the invalids," Jason said for my benefit, smiling cheerfully. I scowled at him, sticking my tongue out childishly.

Gwen ushered the two centurions out the door. She turned the light off after they were out of the room. Before she could fully shut the door, I was out cold.

**Ok, I'm gonna (try and) make this quick, because most of my AN's are ridiculously long compared to most authors'. If you like the AN's before and actually read them… Wow. I'm impressed. I have to remind myself of K.I.S.S. More story, less AN.**

**Sorry for not updating for so long. Between lack of inspiration and no time and lots of homework…**

**I also must apologize for the ending. I didn't know where to leave off, and I wanted to end after "I have no idea," but Dakota's reactions are fun to write.**

**Gods, I'm failing with Octavian. I'm trying to make him a good Roman- polite, respectful, and violent- with hints of the side he shows us in SoN. I'm also trying to keep my personal biases out of this… Eh. He doesn't seem like the nutcase he is in SoN, but he'll get there. Plus, I added background, so we can sympathize with him and maybe even get to like him before he goes all power-hungry on us. Which is what Romans do (best), I guess.**

***Ok, I know what the saying is. Enemy of my enemy is my friend. Keep in mind, this is a ten year old. Who acts like a teenager. I need to remember this as well.**

**Also, I know my formatting has issues. I sometimes have multiple people talking in one paragraph. The way I do it is by length and when I feel like it works- but clearly, it doesn't always. I'm improving, though!**

**I thought about making Mark mute. The idea was very entertaining. But his life is going to suck enough without being unable to speak. This is his (only) reprieve. I hope he enjoys it while it lasts.**

**Review!**

**Dang, this is going to end up being 70 chapters at this rate. I planned to have the time skip by now… Maybe one more normal chapter in this timeline, then time skip, when…. Well, read on and find out.**

**Until then,**

**-33**


	12. Chapter 11

**Hey! This story is now beta'd! Big round of applause to Sailor Girl3 for taking the time to preview this chapter and fix all my errors!**

After I got out of the infirmary, I led a pretty normal life at camp.

I wasn't the best at anything, but I could fight pretty well with a gladius. The sword I found in the armory was normal- your average Imperial gold gladius. The blade had a few scratches, and the hilt was beat-up, dented, and had a few blood stains, but it was mine. I got in a lot of trouble with Vitallus the Ridiculous for that- "What kind of a Roman are you? You don't polish your sword? Look! You've got blood on the hilt!"- but it wasn't my fault. It wasn't always mine- some idiot _probatio_ slacker hadn't done everything up to par in the armory. Normally, being yelled at doesn't bother me, but the Lares get on my nerves as it is. Vitallus is the only one that treats me normally- normally being like any other member of the Fifth Cohort. Translation: every time I screw up, he goes out of his way to stab me with his sword in front of everybody. Maybe that's a little more extreme than normal… but it's better than all the whispering.

I spent five years at camp. Beyond the Lares and the rumors they spread, I was the typical Roman soldier. Well, I wasn't very violent or bloodthirsty, but I faded into the background. I was completely unnoticeable among my friends- Gwen, the know-it-all that went out of her way to help everyone (which wasn't Roman at all, but made her a lot of allies for war games); Dakota, the senior centurion of the Fifth who was legendary for his drinking problems (though he had gotten much better after that first deathball game… he was too addicted to go completely without the uber-sugary Kool-Aide, being a son of Bacchus and all, but he went without it for the most part); and Jason, the terrifying son of Jupiter. Jupiter's kids normally went to the First Cohort, but he refused to leave the Fifth, whose members had practically raised him.

I quickly grew used to life at camp. Training, breakfast, training, lunch, training, dinner, different war games…. Training could be anything from preparing for war (different battle strategies and supplies needed to both survive and thrive) to preparing for bed inspection. It depended on the day, what needed to be done, and what kind of mood the centurions were in. It wasn't bad for us in the Fifth, as our centurions were the nicest and most lenient in camp, but I saw the senior centurion of the Third telling his cohort to clean the sidewalk with their toothbrushes for waking up a minute late.

Occasionally, new recruits would show up. Sometimes, different soldiers would go and pick them up. Other times, they would wander in on their own- occasionally guided by a god, but mostly corralled by stupid monsters. I was never chosen to go on a recruiting mission. Why should I have been? I was that weird Fifth kid that the Lares had problems with. I was unclaimed, and I had no idea what I could do. The praetors weren't stupid. They weren't about to throw a wild card like me into the delicate operation of retrieving prospective soldiers. I understood, but it sucked whenever my friends were out of camp and I was stuck polishing armor for hours. Not that they went recruiting often. The other cohorts didn't like the losers in the Fifth taking any glory- but the Fifth was best at getting the new soldiers back to camp uninjured. The other cohorts were very focused on forcing the newbies to prove their mettle against whatever monster that had attacked them.

I was on good terms with most of the new soldiers. They were mostly like me- background material, unsure of what to do in this new life at camp. Two recruits changed my life forever- Reyna and Lacey.

Reyna came first. She was a fierce girl about my age, dirty and violent when she entered camp two years after I did. She was pegged for the First Cohort the moment she crossed the border- the Little Tiber was covered in a thin layer of ice, but she walked through it, gritting her teeth and dealing with the cold. She was wearing only a tattered, dirty, white uniform –summer clothes during the middle of winter. Bobby, a son of Mercury in the Fifth that had arrived the year prior, whistled appreciatively when she stomped past, on her way to the praetor's quarters. She whirled around and held a gold pugio to his throat. She snarled at him to apologize, which he quickly did. Many people thought she was a legacy of Mars. Reyna was officially claimed the next night, two metal hounds appearing at her side as a fiery crossed sword and torch appeared over her head. She became a centurion the night after, dominating the other four cohorts when the First faced the Second, Third, Fourth, and Fifth. I was more than a little jealous. She knew her godly parent, fit in perfectly, wasn't in the background, and was in a position to make some change. Which she did, of course. Her soldiers never acted out, and were punished every time they insulted the other cohorts- especially the Fifth. I thought she'd make a good praetor.

Then there was Lacey. At first glance, she was the complete opposite of Reyna. Her hair was dark blonde, long and gathered in a ponytail over her left ear. Lacey had freckles sprinkled across her light cheeks, her eyes a dark grey. Her clothes were loose and dirty- not from fighting, but living outside. Her jeans were worn and ripped at the knee. Her shoes had probably once been white, but they were so covered in dirt and grass stains that I could never be sure. She wore a tie-dye tank top under her large green sweatshirt. In essence, she looked like a hippie. Lacey was immediately pushed to the Fifth- another reject for the pile. She was friendly to everyone, shy at first- until you got to know her. Lacey came to Camp Jupiter when I was fifteen- right before the war began.

Both girls changed the fate of Rome forever, but it was Lacey who made the larger, more immediate impact upon my life….

…**Hmmm, you know, I can't actually think of anything I want to say…. SHORTEST AN EVER, ENJOY!**

**Thanks for taking the time to read this!**

**And, as always, REVIEW!**


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